


The Antidote

by Atisenia



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Erebor Never Fell, Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic Fluff, Dwarven Politics, Fluff, Gardener Bilbo, Gardens & Gardening, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Magical Garden, Protective Bilbo Baggins, Sleeping Beauty Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2018-05-04 05:13:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 51,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5321756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atisenia/pseuds/Atisenia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo Baggins had lived a comfortable life in the Shire, tending to his garden, minding his own business. And then the Dwarves thought they could come and disturb his life with stories of faraway kingdoms, enchanted kings and magical gardens. </p>
<p>Bilbo was not amused.</p>
<p>A different take on the quest where Erebor never fell, Thorin has been poisoned and the Dwarves are in dire need of a gardener.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [You_Light_The_Sky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/You_Light_The_Sky/gifts).



> Happy Birthday Christine!!!
> 
> I couldn't get the idea of gardener!Bilbo out of my mind and this is the result. I added some magic and fairytale elements to it (Thorin is kinda sorta Sleeping Beauty xD), so I hope you'll like it!:) It's only the first chapter, and it seems that it's going to be quite long, at least for me. It's probably not going to be very angsty, since it's me writing it. But I hope you'll enjoy it anyway!

Bilbo Baggins had had it up to the very tips of his pointed ears with Dwarves. He managed to live fifty years as a respectable hobbit in his respectable smial, caring for his respectable garden. He met an occasional dwarf at the market, or when they were passing through the Shire to get from the Blue Mountains to Erebor. But they always minded their own business and he minded his, and Bilbo found that he rather preferred it that way.

And then the Dwarves thought they could come and disturb his life with stories of faraway kingdoms, enchanted kings and magical gardens. And treasure. There was always the treasure.

And they just _kept coming_.

At this point, Bilbo jumped at every strange noise, thinking it might be another dwarf visitor knocking at his door. He almost hoped to see Lobelia on his doorstep. A round of insults with his cousin might just be what he needed.

The doorbell rang just as he was sitting down to read in his cosy armchair. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, really tempted to ignore the visitor. But his father taught him his manners well. Besides, the light of the candles was easily visible through the windows and if he learned anything about Dwarves in the last year, it was that they were stubborn.

He would just have to out-stubborn them all.

He opened the door and stared at the two very young dwarves standing on his doorstep. One of them didn't even have a beard yet, for Eru's sake. Were they sending him children now to try and emotionally blackmail him? When would they get it into their thick skulls that he wasn't going anywhere?

"Fíli," said the blond one, which Bilbo assumed had to be his name.

"And Kíli," added the brunet.

"At your service!" they both intoned and bowed, before straightening and looking at him with hopeful expressions.

Definitely blackmailing him with children. Well then. Bilbo had dozens of little cousins. He had experience.

He stared at them a bit longer and shook his head.

"Nope," he said and closed the door in their faces.

Or he would have done if one of them didn't stick his foot between the door and the doorframe. Bilbo would like them to try that without those silly boots they insisted to torture their feet with.

"But... are you not Mister Boggins?" asked the dark haired one — Kíli, was it? — and looked at him with the best set of puppy eyes Bilbo had seen since Drogo came of age.

"It's Baggins," he corrected automatically and mentally kicked himself for that. It would have been so easy to send them on their merry way if they thought they had the wrong house. “And I’m not coming with you to Erebor, as I have already told a hundred dwarves before. Good night.”

He tried to close the door again, but the lad had a surprisingly strong grip on it.

“But we came so far!” he protested.

“Can’t we at least talk?” asked the other one, Fíli.

Bilbo was about to tell them that no, they could not, manners be damned, when Kíli’s stomach let out a loud rumble. He couldn’t very well leave the children to starve, now could he?

He sighed and opened the door.

“Come in then,” he said, resigned to his fate.

The boys grinned like his cousin Esmeralda in front of a jar of cookies, and stepped into his hobbit-hole with renewed energy. They would have walked right into the kitchen if Bilbo didn't stop them.

"Okay, lads," he said, hands on his hips and a disapproving look on his face. "Has no one taught you any manners?"

At least they had the decency to look sheepish. The last batch of dwarves to show in his smial had eaten him out of house and home, without even asking for permission. That had been terribly rude.

"They tried," Fíli said, trying to look composed while his brother absently scratched the back of his neck. "It didn't take."

Bilbo sighed. It was just as he suspected.

"Fine," he said. "Leave your cloaks on the hooks by the door," he continued, pointing. "Then wipe your feet... your _boots_ on the mat and to the bathroom with you. It's down the corridor, first room on the left."

He started walking towards the kitchen, when one of them called after him.

"The bathroom?" Kíli asked, looking like a lost puppy.

Bilbo blinked at him, then at his brother, then pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You'd better not be thinking about touching the food with those dirty hands," he said. The boys both hid their hands behind their backs. "Wash them. _Thoroughly_. With soap. And while you're at it, get rid of those... things you have on the forearms. You won't be needing them."

With that, he left them and went to start the fire in the kitchen, but Kíli's confused voice still reached him.

"Do you think he meant the vambraces?"

He shook his head with an exasperated smile and started the fire under the stove. Then he went to get some things from his pantry and left them on the table. He just set the water to boil for the soup, when the brothers appeared in his kitchen.

"Where's the food?" Kíli asked. Fíli hit him with an elbow between the ribs. "Ouch!" Kíli protested, glaring at his brother, who just glared back.

"You're going to help make the food," Bilbo said and gave both dwarves cutting boards. They blinked at them and turned them in their hands, until they ended up holding them like shields.

"We can't cook!" Fíli protested and Kíli shook his head violently, his hair all over the place.

"That's why you're just going to be cutting things and I'll be cooking," Bilbo said sensibly and gave each brother a sharp knife. "Go on then! The chicken breast needs to be diced. The onion too, and the bell peppers. And I prefer my carrots in slices, but you can dice them too."

The brothers looked at each other and then stared helplessly at Bilbo. He sighed and showed them how to use the cutting board, how to handle the knife properly ( _not_ as if they were going to throw it at a warg, please and thank you) and how he liked his vegetables cut. After that, they made a pretty quick work of it.

"What are we doing, Mr Boggins?" Kíli asked, peeking excitedly over Bilbo’s shoulder.

"Well, right now I am making soup," Bilbo explained.

"And do all those bits we have cut go into the soup?" Fíli asked. He was trying to appear unaffected, but he was clearly just as excited as his brother.

"No, those are for the stew," Bilbo said. "Fíli, I need you to peel three garlic cloves. Kíli, there's white wine by the window. Bring it here, please."

The lads did what he asked of them without question, Bilbo was pleased to note. He quickly made a simple marinade from the wine and oil, adding garlic, pepper and some fresh herbs. Then he let the chicken lie in it for a while.

"Now, there's a large pot in the cabinet on the right. Give it to me, please."

Both brothers rushed to help, nearly ending up fighting for the pot before Bilbo cleared his throat pointedly and took it from them.

"I'll take care of this," he said and left it on the counter by the stove. Then he put the onion in the pan with some oil and left it to fry.

"What can we do?" Kíli asked, still eager to help.

Bilbo looked at them thoughtfully and then smiled.

"You can set the table if you want," he said and gave them plates and some cutlery, then shooed them out of his kitchen.

In their absence, Bilbo fried the carrots with the onion and put them in the pot. Then he fried the marinated chicken and added it to the rest. He grabbed the diced peppers and also threw them into the pot. He let it stew for a moment before adding some more wine. He checked on the soup and went to see how Fíli and Kíli were doing.

"Boys!" he called from the entry to his dining area. Then he froze mid-step, blinked and burst out laughing.

The two young dwarves were visibly struggling with the task he'd given them. They were arguing over which piece of cutlery went where and set the soup bowls under the flat plates. They looked up at him when he started laughing, and fidgeted.

"We got lost," Kíli said, looking again like a kicked puppy.

"Oh, sweet Yavanna, I can see that!" Bilbo said and showed them how they were supposed to set the table.

"Now that makes much more sense," Fíli said, frowning at the table.

Bilbo only rolled his eyes and pushed them towards the kitchen.

"Come on," he said. "You're going to taste the food now."

Their sullen expressions immediately brightened up as they followed Bilbo to the kitchen. Bilbo gave them each a spoon and ordered them to taste the soup. They looked first at the pot, then at each other.

"But... where's the meat?" Kíli asked.

Bilbo frowned at them.

"It's a vegetable soup," he said. The lads' faces fell and they looked uneasy. Bilbo sighed. "Just... try it before you write it off?"

The brothers didn't look convinced, but dutifully filled their spoons and tasted the soup. Their eyes widened comically when the taste hit them.

"It's good!" Kíli commented and took another spoonful of soup.

"Of course it's good!" Bilbo said indignantly and puffed up his chest. He was a perfectly respectable hobbit; of course he could cook! "Now, I need you to chop those tomatoes for the stew," he said and pointed at a bowl on the table. "And no pecking!" he added when Kíli made a move to do just that.

The boys made quick work of the tomatoes while Bilbo seasoned the stew. He then added the tomatoes to the mix and looked at the brothers with a smile.

They were looking out the window with concern.

"Oh, it's raining, is it?" he said.

"We should get our bags from the ponies..." Fíli said. "They're going to get wet."

Bilbo sighed and stirred the stew.

"Well, get them then," he said.

"Yes," Kíli said. "We should."

"But it seems we have encountered a slight problem."

"A problem?" Bilbo echoed, growing more and more apprehensive.

"We lost the ponies," Kíli said.

Bilbo turned on his heels and glared.

"Lost them? How do you lose ponies?" he said.

The boys fidgeted.

"We didn't so much lose them," Fíli started, "as they seem to have gotten lost on their own."

"Wandered off from where we left them," Kíli added.

Bilbo looked first at one then the other dwarf and put his hands on his hips.

"Get your cloaks," he said. When none of them moved, he frowned. "Now would be good."

The brothers looked at each other and then nodded and scattered. Bilbo left the pots to simmer and went to retrieve his own cloak from his room, muttering about confounded dwarves under his breath. He shouldn't have even let them in, but his darned manners took the best of him yet again. He took the cloak out and in his irritation struggled to put it on, tying and retying the strings. He was only a bit calmer when he joined the lads and they followed him without more prompting.

It was raining in earnest now which did nothing to improve Bilbo's mood. He told the brothers to show him where they had left the ponies, and stared at the empty space where the animals should have been. He cleared his throat.

"Right," he said. "The rain is actually helpful. There are hoof prints all over the place."

He started following the trail, trusting that the brothers would follow. They did, of course, talking between themselves, as if he couldn’t hear them.

“Do you think he’s very mad at us?” Kíli asked. “He will still give us something to eat, right? That soup was delicious!”

Well, of course Bilbo wasn’t going to send them away hungry. He was a respectable hobbit and a great host.

“I don’t know, Kee,” Fíli said. “He seems really nice though.”

Kíli sighed.

“I just can’t understand how the ponies got away,” he said. “We tied them to the tree, didn’t we? They wouldn’t just... eat the ropes!”

“No, I suppose not,” Fíli said, resigned.

Bilbo frowned. If the boys were telling the truth rather than trying to pacify him, then there was something else going on here. He followed the trail a little bit farther and groaned. Of course. Of _course_ it was that thieving, greedy cousin of his! Apparently his mother’s spoons weren’t enough anymore.

“Mr Baggins?” Fíli started cautiously. “Why have we stopped?”

Bilbo pinched the bridge of his nose and turned around to face them.

“It would seem that you didn’t quite lose your ponies,” Bilbo said and marched towards the hated smial. “Lobelia Sackville-Baggins!!!” he yelled, startling the hobbit on her porch. She quickly straightened and glared at him.

“Cousin,” she said. “Why are you shouting at me in such an uncivilised manner?”

“Oh, don’t pretend you don’t know why I’m here!” Bilbo told her and summoned the lads. “I saw you going through their bags. I can see the ponies from here!”

The poor creatures were tied to the fence in the back of Lobelia’s dreadful garden and they were standing there with their heads low.

“She took our ponies!” Kíli said, astonished. “She just took them, Fíli! I thought Hobbits were peaceful and honest folk!”

“We are,” Bilbo told him. “But there are always exceptions.” He turned to face Lobelia again. “Did you really think they wouldn’t notice?”

Lobelia shrugged and pointed at them with her ugly umbrella.

“They’re dwarves, aren’t they?” she sneered. “Don’t they have rocks for brains?”

“Hey!” Kíli protested and took a step forward, but Fíli stopped him.

“They’re _children_ , Lobelia!” Bilbo countered, more and more annoyed. “Even you can’t be cruel enough to steal from children!”

“We’re not—” Kíli started, but Fíli actually put a hand on his mouth this time.

“They don’t look like children to me,” Lobelia said. “And really, Bilbo, you should know better. All those dwarves coming to see you and you haven’t ever thought they might be dangerous? So when I saw those ponies, I needed to make sure.”

Bilbo massaged his temples, sending a quick prayer to Yavanna for strength and patience.

“Just give it all back,” he said.

Lobelia hesitated, but she could see that she was clearly outnumbered. The boys were young, but Bilbo would bet his mother’s glory box that they were already skilled with their weapons. Instead of giving them the bags, she just dropped everything and ran into her smial where she started barricading the door.

“That...” Bilbo started, then controlled himself and took a deep breath. “Nothing for it, lads, we have to take it ourselves.”

They invited themselves to Lobelia’s porch and gathered their things. The boys looked through the contents of their bags and, though it was all in disarray, thankfully nothing was missing. Then they got the ponies. Bilbo winced in sympathy at their soft whinnying and promised them a better place to stay.

“Is she really your cousin, Mr Baggins?” Fíli asked when they were on the road back to Bag End.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Bilbo muttered. “Though only through marriage. I have no idea what my cousin Otho sees in her, I really don’t.” He turned to Fíli. “She has designs on Bag End, you know. She’s always wanted my home and my garden. The worst part is that Otho is my next of kin, so she has a right to expect that. But I’ll be damned if I ever let her touch my mother’s garden! You saw what she did to her own poor plants!”

Bilbo couldn’t see it, but he felt the brothers exchanging looks behind his back. He grimaced and remembered that Dwarves didn't understand plants. It was, in fact, the very reason why they were pestering him.

They finally reached Bag End and secured the ponies in the space between the back entrance and a large tree that gave them enough shelter from rain and wind. Bilbo gave each pony and apple and watched with satisfaction as the animals perked up a bit. He left them with more things to eat and then entered his smial. Bilbo left his cloak to dry by the door and went to clean his feet, and change. This done, he ordered the boys to go have a wash and started setting the table for dinner. He dragged a selection of cheeses from his pantry, as well as some bread and the seedcakes he had baked just this morning. Oh, and he had this excellent meat pie that the boys might like. They deserved a treat after how their possessions were treated by Lobelia. He made tea for all of them and when the brothers came back from the bathroom, he was just serving the soup.

“Um... Mr Boggins?” Kíli asked, still using the wrong name. Bilbo turned to look at the lads and frowned. They both had very uncertain expressions on their faces.

“What is it, Kíli?” he asked.

“Where did all this food come from? We didn’t make it, did we?”

Bilbo blinked at them and then couldn’t help but laugh. Silly boys!

“I’ll have you know that my pantry is very well stocked,” he said. “Go on, take your seats! I’ll go get the stew.”

Bilbo tasted the stew and hummed. It was very good, if he did say so himself. He put most of it in a large bowl and set the rest to cool down a bit.

The boys were curiously poking at the food when he joined them. He set the bowl on the table and sat down.

“Go on then, let’s eat!” he said and all three of them descended on the food.

The brothers had a healthy appetite and Bilbo was very pleased when they complimented his cooking. They were telling him tales about their travels, making him laugh with their exaggerated gestures and enthusiastic retellings of each others’ embarrassing moments.

Finally, they were full, and it was only Bilbo still snacking on the cheeses while the boys slumped in their chairs and rubbed their bellies.

"Where does all this food even fit, Mr Boggins?" Kíli groaned. "You're so small!”

“Does it even get digested through the night?” Fíli moaned.

Bilbo frowned, not sure if he should be offended by a dwarf calling him small. He was of a very respectable height, thank you!

He opted for getting himself one more seedcake.

“What do you mean ‘through the night’?” he asked. “We are still having supper.”

There were two identical groans from the brothers and Bilbo chuckled. The last delegation had eaten the entire contents of his pantry, but there had been much more of them, and Bilbo had sent them on their merry way as soon as he could. He had never actually seen how much a single dwarf could eat and it was rather enlightening. It would appear that there was simply no way to outdo a hobbit when it came to food.

“Go make yourselves comfortable in the living room,” he told them. “I’ll take care of the plates.”

While he washed the dishes, his thoughts inevitably went to the reason behind the boys’ arrival. For they were clearly here on a mission and Bilbo knew exactly what it was. They may have turned out to be a lot more... agreeable than the numerous advisors to the King, but they were still here to take him away from his home, if only for a little while.

They all came from the great kingdom of Erebor, which had been stricken by tragedy when the King Under the Mountain had been poisoned by a group of dwarves set on overthrowing the current monarchy. The King hadn’t died, due only to the influence of a wizard who, lacking the proper ingredients for an antidote, had put the King into a death-like sleep. The wizard had then set out to find the ingredients, leaving the mountain under the rule of the King’s brother and sister. He had returned with the antidote, only to discover that a great enchanted garden had grown around the King’s place of rest and it wouldn’t let anyone through.

Why they needed a gardener to deal with the problem was anyone’s guess. Why they specifically needed _Bilbo_ , was just incomprehensible. Bilbo was sure there were many skilled gardeners in Middle-earth. Besides, didn’t they have a wizard in their midst? Couldn’t he just... make the garden disappear with his magic and be done with it?

Bilbo left the last of the dishes to dry and sighed. There was no way to avoid that conversation now and the sooner he had it, the sooner he could send the boys back to their families.

The lads were lying on the couch with their hands still on their lightly distended bellies. Bilbo felt an involuntary wave of fondness for them that he immediately squished.

“How are you feeling?” Bilbo asked them and sat in his father’s armchair.

“Full,” Kíli said sleepily. “So full.”

Fíli lifted himself with a groan and straightened his hair.

“Can we talk now?” he asked. Bilbo sighed and gestured for him to go on. He was expecting it after all. “I’m not sure how much the others told you...”

“Enough, I think,” Bilbo said and told them what he knew about the situation in Erebor. “I still don’t understand why it has to be me.”

Fíli looked at him thoughtfully with greater wisdom in his eyes than he should by any means possess. Bilbo frowned.

“Our u—” Fíli started and cleared his throat. “Our _King_ , or rather Prince Regent promised a reward to anyone who would be able to get through the garden to administer the antidote.” Well, that was certainly news to Bilbo. “Many have tried, but the garden hasn’t let anyone in so far. We are not natural gardeners, so U— Prince Regent allowed Men and even _Elves_ to try, but none have succeeded.”

Bilbo stored that information away and asked the question that very much needed asking.

“And what about the wizard? He should be able to help, being a wizard and all.”

“That’s what I said!” Kíli cut in and earned himself a glare from Fíli that he promptly ignored. “But apparently not.”

“Gandalf — that’s the wizard — says that there had to be some magical ingredient in the poison,” Fíli said. “Some kind of... insurance spell. Set to act if the poison didn’t work for some reason. He says he cannot lift the enchantment without knowing what it was. Otherwise he might cause more damage.”

“And yet the antidote will still work?” Bilbo asked. “Without any knowledge of this... secret magical ingredient?” Fíli only shrugged helplessly and Kíli started circling the room with nervous energy. “Gandalf... I think I know this name,” Bilbo said with a frown, trying to recall a memory from a long time ago.

Fíli grinned.

“He said you might remember him! He was a friend of your mother's.”

“Oh yes, I remember,” Bilbo said and an image of his younger self waving a wooden sword at a grey figure with a pointy hat flashed before his eyes. “He made some _excellent_ fireworks!”

“He still does!” Kíli said from where he was playing with a poker. Bilbo had a sudden urge to take it from him before he managed to hurt himself. “The great shower of gems he made for—” Fíli cleared his throat pointedly and Kíli stopped himself for a second before continuing. “—for the King on his last birthday was spectacular!”

“He was the one who suggested you might be able to help us,” Fíli said. “He thinks we need someone more bound to the earth. And Hobbits are natural gardeners. At least that’s what he says.”

Bilbo grimaced but had to concede that the wizard had a point. Not much was known about how Hobbits came to be, but many believed that Yavanna herself gave the Hobbits her blessing every time they made something grow. And Bilbo was one of the best, just as his mother had been before him. He knew his plants well and could make almost anything grow.

“I am sorry that this has happened to your King,” he said. “And your kingdom. But you have to understand that I can’t just... leave my home and go to the other side of Middle-earth with you. I have a life here. A good life.”

It might be repetitive and monotonous at times, but it was a comfortable life he had managed to build for himself after his parents’ deaths. He wasn’t going to ruin it just for a vague promise of an adventure. His adventuring days were over.

“We know that,” Fíli said. “And we would never ask you to abandon your home, Mr Baggins. It would be more like... like a holiday.” Bilbo opened his mouth to protest, but Fíli continued talking. “We would, of course, escort you to Erebor and back again. My brother and I alone are very well-trained warriors, so you would be safe with us.”

Bilbo crossed his arms and firmly told his Took side to stay quiet. His nose twitched.

“And what of my garden?” he asked. “I’m not going to leave it to wilt away!” It was his mother’s garden! She was the one who had planted the rose bushes. And there were the forget-me-nots that his father had loved so much...

“Is there anyone who could take care of it for you?” Fíli asked. “Just for the duration of your journey,” he added when he saw Bilbo ready to protest. “We will of course cover all your expenses if you decide to hire a gardener, and compensate for any losses you may suffer.” Bilbo pursed his lips and sank low in his armchair. Fíli had no business sounding so reasonable that even his Baggins part was impressed. Thankfully, the lad promptly ruined it. “And you will get the promised reward if you succeed,” he said.

Bilbo huffed and relaxed.

“I have no use for your gold,” he said. “Maybe you haven’t noticed, but I’m quite wealthy already, thank you!”

Fíli leaned forward and looked at Bilbo thoughtfully.

“It doesn’t have to be gold,” he said after a moment. “It’s obviously the right incentive for Dwarves and Men, and even some Elves, but if it’s not to your liking, we can always renegotiate the terms.”

Bilbo fidgeted in his armchair. He was prepared for emotional blackmail from the brothers. He was not prepared for... well... _this_.

“I don’t think...” he started weakly.

“How about some unusual plants?” Fíli asked, sensing the opportunity. It piqued Bilbo’s interest, bebother it all! “Erebor is a strong kingdom, with many trade routes. We could arrange for plants native to other kingdoms to be brought to you.”

Bilbo huffed. They really knew nothing about the proper care of plants, did they?

“You can’t expect all those plants to grow in the Shire!” he said. “If they grow in another part of Middle-earth, there’s probably a reason for that.”

“But I have seen Men in Dale successfully grow plants that should not grow this close to the mountain. They build greenhouses for that purpose. We could have a few built for you, Mr Baggins.”

Bilbo’s nose twitched again. He couldn’t help imagining such a greenhouse next to Bag End, with a whole new world of spices and previously unknown ingredients that would make his cooking even better...

A loud noise of shattering porcelain brought him out of his mind and he looked around the room frantically. Kíli, who had been exploring the room while his brother talked to Bilbo, stood by the remains of Aunt Mirabella’s vase with a sheepish expression. Fíli blinked at him, then at the vase, and looked at Bilbo with wide, almost terrified eyes.

“We’re so sorry, Mr Baggins!” he said. “We will pay you for it!”

Kíli looked like he was still in shock, looking down at the vase as if he wondered how it got there. Bilbo sighed and came to stand by his side, carefully avoiding the shards.

“It’s all right, lad,” he said. “I didn’t like this vase anyway.”

He put his hand on Kíli’s shoulder and squeezed lightly. He really _hated_ that vase. If Aunt Mirabella didn’t make such excellent scones, he would have gotten rid of it a long time ago. Now he could just blame the dwarves and still get his scones.

Kíli looked at him with large puppy eyes, and Bilbo almost expected his lower lip to quiver at any moment.

“Tell you what,” Bilbo said. “Clean up this mess and I’ll go make us all some tea.” Kíli nodded and Bilbo squeezed his arm again before letting go. “Just be careful not to cut yourself.”

He went to the kitchen and made a large pot of tea. It was early for supper, but Bilbo still put a plate of seedcakes on the table.

The brothers emerged soon after and sat on their chairs with their heads down. Bilbo sighed.

“It’s fine, really,” he said. “It was a very ugly vase that my aunt forced on me when I won my first tomato contest. It fell down a few times before, but didn’t break, the blasted thing! So really, if anything, you’ve just done me a favour.”

Kíli finally looked up with a hopeful expression.

“Really?” he asked, glancing briefly at his brother.

“Yes, really,” Bilbo told him. “Now let’s drink some tea.”

The boys brightened up after that and told him an amusing story about the time when the King got lost in the city of Dale and wandered the streets for a whole day before his guard found him. Apparently, the King’s atrocious sense of direction was legendary. As was clearly his pride. Bilbo was sure that there were hundreds of people in Dale that he could ask for directions.

“There are!” Kíli said with a grin. “And not only Men. There are Dwarves from the mountain everywhere! You’ll see for yourself when you’ll come with us, Mr Boggins!”

Bilbo choked on the tea he had been drinking and started coughing until his eyes watered. The brothers looked at him with concern, ready to intervene, but he finally managed to get himself under control.

“I’m...” he started and coughed again. “I’m sorry, but I’m not going with you.” He had managed to shake the pull of Fíli’s strangely reasonable words after the vase shattered. Now he could remember every reason why going to Erebor would be madness.

“But...” Kíli protested and looked helplessly at his brother.

Fíli sighed.

“We understand, Mr Baggins,” he said.

“But Fíli!”

“We won’t force you into anything,” Fíli said. “Just... think about it. We will be staying in the Shire for a few days, so let us know if you change your mind. Please.”

They both looked at him with pleading expressions and Bilbo clenched his jaw. He still didn’t want to go, but he could promise them to think about it. He looked from Fíli to Kíli and offered them a curt nod.

The boys grinned at him.

“Where are you staying?” he asked. “There are probably still some dwarves at the Green Dragon...”

“Oh no, we’re not staying there,” Kíli said, stuffing his mouth with a seedcake.

“No, they don’t want us there,” Fíli added.

“And we don’t want to be there either.”

“They’re boring.”

“And old.”

“We will just camp outside.”

“Or on the trees.”

“Wait... hang on!” Bilbo interrupted their eerie exchange. His brain needed a moment to process what they were actually saying. “You can’t sleep outside!”

“But we do it all the time, Mr Boggins!” Kíli said.

Bilbo gaped at them. It would seem they were quite serious about this.

“No, you can’t—” he started and then resigned himself to what he was about to say. “You’re going to stay with me.”

Judging by how wide their grins became, Bilbo had just made a huge mistake.


	2. Chapter 2

Bilbo woke up slowly when the morning sun coming through the window in his bedroom tickled him in the face. He twitched his nose, opened his eyes and stretched. His stomach rumbled with displeasure, letting Bilbo know that he had slept through the first breakfast. Well, no matter. It was second breakfast in a little while and then he would go to the market and buy himself a nice piece of fish...

A pony neighed near the back entrance to his smial and a second one answered. Bilbo bolted upright, immediately alert. Ponies. In his backyard. Belonging to the two young dwarves that he had invited into his home.

Bilbo groaned and fell back on the bed. He’d had such hopes that this was all just a dream! True, the lads were a much more pleasant company than the stuffy old nobles that had invaded his home before. Bilbo would gladly host them in Bag End for a time and learn more about Dwarven customs. The brothers had fascinating stories to tell, often featuring their own mischief. But they had come to him with a weight of expectations and Bilbo hated seeing the disappointed expressions on their young faces.

He sighed and got out of bed. There was nothing for it: if Bilbo had foolishly welcomed the lads into his home, he might as well follow through and feed them. If the silence reigning over Bag End was any indication, the boys were still asleep in one of the guest rooms. He wasn't exactly surprised. They had stayed up late into the night, telling Bilbo stories about the marvels of Erebor. It must have only added to the exhaustion of a long journey.

Bilbo shook his head fondly and put on some freshly washed clothes. Then he went to the kitchen and started a fire under the stove. He was going to treat the boys to his mum's cottage cheese and raisin pancakes that everyone loved. He was just about to set the water to boil for the tea, humming to himself, when there was an angry knock on his door.

Bilbo froze. Surely it couldn't be more dwarves, could it? The lads would have said something. He looked between the door and the window, tempted to just ignore the newcomer but curious about their identity.

And then he heard the telltale sound of an umbrella knocking and then scraping over his freshly painted door. Well, that would just _not do_.

He opened the door and wasn't at all surprised to see Lobelia on his doorstep. He opened his mouth to let her know how terribly rude she was being, but she pushed her umbrella into his hands. It made Bilbo stumble backwards and Lobelia took the opportunity to invite herself into his home.

"Come in, dear Cousin," Bilbo muttered, closing the door behind her. "May I also take your umbrella?" He left the dreadful thing in the stand by the door. “And do please sit down,” he added, when he saw she had already taken a seat at the table.

Lobelia crossed her arms and glared at him.

“The ponies are still in your backyard,” she said without so much as a ‘good morning’.

Bilbo blinked at her and sighed. So much for a relaxing morning making pancakes.

“Chose the long way ‘round, didn’t you?” he said mildly. It wasn’t exactly a surprise that she would come snooping around, but he was almost impressed by her tenacity. She wouldn’t be able to see the back door from the road, so she had either crept around his smial or gone all the way to Sandyman’s Mill.

“Well?” she said, still glaring at him pointedly.

“Well what?” he asked, taking a seat as far away from her as possible.

Lobelia narrowed her eyes and huffed.

“Didn’t your father teach you how to treat your guests?”

Bilbo pursed his lips and stood up.

“Forgive me, Cousin!” he said with fake horror. “I haven’t realised you were in such haste to visit me that you didn’t have time to eat breakfast. How terribly rude of me!”

He escaped her suspicious glance by rushing to the pantry. It was still very nicely stocked, if he did say so himself, but Lobelia knew nothing about it. Bilbo quickly assembled a small collection of dried fruits, old cookies and stale bread, and brought it back to the dining area. He set it on the table and sat back down. Lobelia eyed the plate with obvious distaste.

“Is this a joke?” she asked sharply.

Bilbo sighed and winced dramatically.

“No, you see... Dwarves have a great appetite,” he said and cleared his throat, feigning embarrassment. “There’s not much left in my pantry after they pillaged it during the night, and I didn’t have time to go to the market before your lovely visit.”

Lobelia narrowed her eyes at him and Bilbo kept his face as innocent as possible. It was not the first time Bilbo had to deal with Lobelia and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. He’d had plenty of practice.

“And you couldn’t just send them away?” she finally asked with a huff.

“Well, as you were so kind to point out, my father did teach me my manners well,” Bilbo told her.

Lobelia pursed her lips, probably trying to contain what would have been a very sour expression. She couldn’t argue against her own argument and they both knew it.

“Well then,” she said, getting up from her chair. “I would hate to eat your only food. Just don’t let those dwarves do any harm to your lovely home.”

Bilbo mentally rolled his eyes. Of course Lobelia’s priority would be to make sure Bag End was safe and still ready for the taking.

“Your concern for my wellbeing is touching,” he said and forced a smile.

Lobelia sent him a smile of her own that looked more like a wince, and stormed out of Bag End, taking the dratted umbrella with her. Bilbo should probably go and check on the ponies, in case she tried any funny business. And then, finally, he would eat breakfast. It was closer to elevensies now and his stomach was getting impatient.

So Bilbo took a pair of apples from the kitchen cupboard and started for the back door.

"Did we really eat all your food?"

The sudden question made Bilbo jump, but he definitely did _not_ squeak, no matter what certain dwarves might say on the matter. He dropped the apples and turned with wide eyes to face Fíli and Kíli, who were staring at him expectantly.

"I have been telling you that we did not!" Fíli told his brother. "Have we, Bilbo?"

Ah, yes, because at some point last night some foolish part of Bilbo decided that they might as well call him by his first name. As if he needed this sort of familiarity, considering the situation.

He took a deep breath and shook his head.

"No," he said. "There's still plenty of food for us, don't worry."

He bent down to pick up the apples but Fíli was quicker and handed them to him with a grin. Bilbo smiled tightly, still a little affected by the earlier fright. He was so used to living alone that the next few days would certainly be challenging.

"But," Kíli protested, a confused frown between his brows. "Why would you say that to that other hobbit then? I know she stole our ponies, but she was nice at the end."

Bilbo blinked at him in disbelief and snorted when Fíli smacked him upside the head.

"She was not!" Fíli told his brother who was massaging the back of his head with a glare. "She was just making sure that we didn't damage anything she might one day inherit. Honestly, Kee, this here is why I am the heir and you are the spare."

"Hey!" Kíli protested at once and tackled Fíli to the ground.

Well then. Bilbo wasn't going to stand by and wait until their roughhousing inevitably involved him as well. He stepped carefully around the boys and left the smial through the back door.

The ponies turned out to be well-behaved, much better than their owners. They certainly appreciated the apples he’d given them. Bilbo was just telling them how lucky they were to avoid the company of his dreadful cousin when the boys joined him, once again thick as thieves.

"What do you call them?" Bilbo asked, gesturing at the ponies.

The brothers frowned.

"Well, they are called 'ponies' in Common," Fíli said. "Though I suppose you could call them 'horses'"

"Little horses," Kíli added before Bilbo could say anything.

"Unless you ask how they're called in Khuzdul."

"But we can’t tell you that."

"It's a secret language, you see."

"We would be in trouble."

"Uncle would have a fit."

"His eyebrows would be all over the place."

"And Mum—"

"Their _names_!" Bilbo finally managed to cut in. "What are their _names_?"

Fíli and Kíli looked at each other with confusion and then turned to blink owlishly at Bilbo.

“Names?” Kíli started.

“They’re ponies,” Fíli added.

“They don’t have names!”

Bilbo sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course. Of _course_ the poor animals had no names. Not if these two were in charge of them. They had probably picked the ponies at random from some grand Erebor stable and didn’t think twice about it.

“Well, this will not do,” he said. He straightened up and looked at the boys with a stern expression, his arms crossed. “All right, lads, here’s what we’re going to do,” he said and lifted his index finger in the air. “First, we will make something to eat.” A second finger joined the first. “Then we will go to the market and see if there is still something left for us.” He lifted another finger. “Then we will come back here and I expect you two to have a list of suitable names for your ponies.” He lifted another finger. “ _Then_ we will take them to the stables.”

The boys had been surprisingly calm and obedient right up to this point. They started protesting and talking over one another, which just served to make Bilbo glare at them with hands on his hips. This made them quiet for a blissful moment.

And then Kíli had to ruin it.

“We can’t take the ponies to the stables!” he blurted.

Bilbo took a deep breath, his eyes closed.

“And why is that, exactly?” he asked, looking from Fíli, whose eyes went all over the place in his effort to avoid looking at Bilbo, to Kíli, who looked like a panicked puppy. “I can’t guarantee proper care for the poor creatures! That’s what the stables are _for_!”

“But... but they are happy here!” Kíli said, gesticulating wildly and nearly hitting his brother. And a pony. “See? You even gave them apples. They like apples!”

Bilbo stared at them some more and narrowed his eyes.

“What is it with you two?” he asked. His nose twitched. “What are you hiding?”

“Nothing!” they said at the same time, entirely too quickly.

Bilbo pursed his lips and crossed his arms again. The boys fidgeted but they didn’t volunteer any more information. Finally, Bilbo sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Fine!” he said. “Don’t tell me! I can’t deal with it on an empty stomach anyway.”

He marched into Bag End, intent on finally making some pancakes and drinking some tea. He muttered to himself as he mixed egg yolks with water, sugar and salt with much more force than was required. He stirred in cottage cheese, flour and raisins, and  managed to beat an excellent egg whites foam which lightened his mood considerably.

The smell of frying pancakes drew the boys inside and they started peeking curiously over his shoulder. Bilbo managed to hit them with a spatula a couple of times, but it only seemed to encourage them. So Bilbo wasn’t exactly surprised when the first two pancakes were stolen from the plate he’d put them on. The boys looked very pleased with themselves, as if they had performed a tremendous act of stealth, and Bilbo realised that he didn’t mind. He just pointed them to were the honey was and continued frying.

After that, they made a game of it. Whenever one of the brothers got close to the plate, Bilbo would smack his hands with the spatula. The boys were getting more and more creative. Usually, one of them would try to distract Bilbo so the other could steal the pancakes, but they only managed to steal a couple of them.

“Okay, lads,” Bilbo said after frying the last pancake. “Let’s take these over to the dining area and eat them like civilised people.”

“I thought you gave up on us ever being civilised,” Kíli said, stuffing his mouth with an entire stolen pancake. Bilbo rolled his eyes and looked at him fondly.

“Doesn’t hurt to try,” he said and raised his eyebrows. Fíli snorted and took the teapot out of Bilbo’s hands.

“Let me help you with that,” he said and hurried out of the kitchen.

“Careful!” Bilbo called after him. “This was my father’s favourite set!”

Bilbo felt considerably more content after he ate a few pancakes. A full Hobbit was a happy Hobbit. This apparently didn’t apply to Dwarves, however. A full Dwarf was a sleepy, heavy lump of aches and whining.

“You didn’t have to eat so many of them,” Bilbo said, gathering the dishes.

“But they were _so good_!” Kíli told him dreamily.

“Yes, well...” Bilbo said and cleared his throat. He really liked having guests that appreciated his cooking. “Still. Now we are going to the market and I’m _not_ carrying you there.”

“Can we just... roll there?” Fíli asked, massaging his belly. “Like barrels.”

“I bet Bombur could do it,” Kíli murmured.

Bilbo looked from one dwarf to the other and frowned.

“Who’s Bombur?” he asked.

“No one,” Fíli said.

“Just this big dwarf who works in the kitchens,” Kíli added. “You would like him!”

Bilbo rolled his eyes at them and tapped his foot impatiently on the floor.

“Okay, lads. Up you get!” he said. “If nothing else, we have to buy the ponies something to eat. They can’t live on apples alone and—” he cut himself off because the boys jumped up from their chairs and sent him nearly identical grins. Then they started moving out of the dining area. “Which is not to say that they will be staying... here...” he called after them, but they were already at the door. Bilbo sighed and shook his head. “Why do I even bother?” he muttered and followed them.

A warm spring sun was doing its best to erase every sign of the rain. There was an occasional puddle that attracted playful fauntlings — and Bilbo was ever so glad that he wasn’t going to be the one to clean those feet — but other than that, the ground quickly absorbed the water. It was no wonder, really, after a month of dry spell. It might finally be time to plant some strawberries.

He was planning how best to prune his mother’s roses, letting the brothers bicker, so he didn’t notice the glances sent in their direction until they reached the market. The whispers soon followed and Bilbo sighed. He probably didn’t want to know what sorts of things that wretched cousin of his had been telling people.

Bilbo startled when Kíli grabbed his elbow and squeezed.

“There’s so many little ones!” he said with awe. Bilbo followed his gaze and had to smile fondly at the sight of Primula’s resigned expression as she tried, and failed, to keep the little Brandybucks and Tooks under control. She caught Bilbo’s eye and sent him a rueful smile, before chasing after Paladin and Esmeralda, who were jumping into the puddles whenever someone passed by.

“They’re a handful,” Bilbo said and looked at the brothers, who just stared at the fauntlings as if they had never seen a child before.

Or, possibly, as if they wanted to join in on the fun. Bilbo was quick to steer them away from the commotion, just in case. And then made them carry all sorts of things because there was no such thing as ‘too careful’.

“Ah, Mister Bilbo!” Erling Rumble called, beaming at Bilbo and sending fleeting glances at the boys. “I see the rumours are all true! You really can’t get rid of those Dwarves, can you?”

Bilbo forced a polite smile and shrugged helplessly.

“What can you do?” he said, more for Erling’s benefit than anything else. “At least these two are pleasant company.”

Erling laughed heartily and clapped Bilbo on the back.

“So. Not destroying your pantry then?” he said.

Bilbo raised his eyebrows. His smile was becoming more and more strained the more Erling implied that Fíli and Kíli were a nuisance. He could just feel himself getting defensive. It was very worrisome.

“They earn they keep,” he said and turned to the boys. Only they weren’t there. He might have to rethink his position on Dwarves and how much _not_ stealthy they were. Then again, it wasn’t such a tremendous feat, disappearing at a crowded market.

Bilbo looked around, very much expecting the brothers to have joined the fauntlings, but they were nowhere to be seen. He had no problem spotting the little Tooks who were currently enduring a stern lecture from Prim, but there was no sight of Fíli or Kíli anywhere near them. There _were_ , however, two Dwarven traders selling their merchandise very close to where Bilbo was standing. And even though he still couldn’t see the boys, maybe they recognized someone and decided to say ‘hello’?

Bilbo sighed and left them to it. He was _not_ worried. They would be back at Bag End, if only to retrieve their ponies, and they better bring all the purchases with them, if they so much as thought about getting a cookie with their afternoon tea.

He said goodbye to Erling, bought a few more things and went home. He didn’t expect to see the boys for quite some time, and definitely not lounging about on the bench in front of his door, helping themselves to yesterday's seedcakes. Bilbo stood by the gateway and glared.

"I can't leave you two alone even for a moment, can I?" he said. Kíli squeaked and promptly fell off the bench, while Fíli sat upright with wide eyes. "It's not very polite, you know. Leaving without a word, letting me wonder if something happened to you, while you simply sneak back into my home."

"We're sorry, Bilbo!" Fíli said with a contrite expression.

"We didn't mean to worry you!" Kíli added, getting up from the ground.

"We really didn't."

"There was just... we just wanted..."

"We wanted to think of some names," Fíli finished. "You know, for the ponies!"

Bilbo sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Right," he said and looked at the boys. "Right. Let's get inside and hear them while I make us lunch."

The brothers exchanged glances and followed Bilbo into his smial with something like apprehension on their faces. Bilbo was pleased to see that they had left all the purchases on the kitchen table. He had already decided to make roasted sausages with baked onions and potatoes. A vegetable salad would also be in order. It was a season for radish, which would add a bit of spice to the dish.

Bilbo had the boys peel potatoes after making absolutely sure that they wouldn't stab themselves because of their poor technique. Or cut off more than half of the potatoes, which would be a terrible waste. He himself prepared the sausages, making shallow cuts and sprinkling them with pepper and rosemary. Then he prepared the radish and lettuce salad and turned to look at how the boys were doing.

They had made a pretty good job peeling potatoes and were now looking at him, following his moves as if fascinated. Bilbo tried not to fidget and told them to peel and cut the onion while he prepared the potatoes. He washed them, cut them into neat eights and placed on a tray with thyme, rosemary, salt and butter. They would smell delicious with the herbs. At last he added onion that the lads had cut and put it all in the oven.

When he turned to the boys, they were watching him again.

"Um..." he said and cleared his throat. "Something wrong?"

They shook their heads with similar smiles.

"We just like to watch you work!" Kíli said.

"Dwarves really value their craft," Fíli said. "We appreciate great skill and dedication."

"And you are very good at cooking! I never knew making food could be this... fascinating!"

Bilbo looked from one to the other and back, and then frowned.

"But... I thought working with stone and metals was important to you?" he said, sitting in front of them on the opposite side of the table.

"It mostly is," Fíli admitted. "But we appreciate all the craft that is done well."

"Also, someone has to feed us," Kíli said and got hit with an elbow between the ribs. "What?!" He glared at Fíli. " _You_ can't cook! The deer you tried to cook before we reached Bree was just awful!"

"And the eggs you found and cooked made us ill!" Fíli countered. "Thank Mahal for waybread or we would have starved!"

"All right, lads!" Bilbo interrupted before the argument turned into a fight and they started throwing around his lovely pottery. "I understand now. You just watch me do my... um... craft"

"And we're definitely fond of the food," Kíli said and grinned.

Bilbo shook his head fondly and stood up to set the sausages in their place.

"I noticed," he said with a small smile.

After taking care of the sausages, he checked on the potatoes, inhaling the pleasing scent of herbs.

A soft whimper made him turn around quickly, accidentally burning his hand. Kíli was looking like a kicked puppy again. His eyes were also puffy and red, and he was rubbing at them furiously. Bilbo was by his side in no time.

"What's wrong?" he asked, looking from Kíli to Fíli, who seemed equally bemused.

"I don't know!" Fíli said. "He was fine and then he wasn't!"

"It itches!" Kíli whined and rubbed at his eyes some more.

"Stop!" Bilbo said. "Let me see."

He turned Kíli's face toward the light and looked at his eyes. There seemed to be nothing wrong with them, except that they were a bit irritated. Although...

Bilbo leaned in, ignoring Kíli's startled yelp, and sniffed at the skin around the eye. Then he sighed and let Kíli go.

"You need to wash your eyes with water," Bilbo said, feeling partly annoyed and partly guilty. "You didn't wash your hands after cutting the onion, and rubbed it all around your eyes."

Kíli looked at the verge of panic.

"Will I lose my sight?" he asked. "I can't lose my sight! I'm an archer. And—"

"You will be fine," Bilbo assured him. Yavanna only knew how many times he had done the same thing to his poor eyes when he had first started cooking. "Just wash your eyes with a lot of water. Fíli?"

"I'm on it!" Fíli said and walked with his brother in the direction of the bathroom.

"And wash your hands too!" Bilbo called after them.

He sighed. It would do him good to remember that they really needed him to explain things for them more thoroughly.

After a moment, Bilbo shook himself and checked on their lunch. He turned the sausages that were looking rather good, and shuffled the potatoes around. It should all do very nicely indeed.

The boys came back in much better moods. Kíli was already boasting that he could shoot a squirrel even blind and upside down, so he was definitely feeling better. His eyes were still somewhat red and puffy, but that was only to be expected.

"It smells wonderful, Bilbo!" Fíli said.

"It's the herbs," Bilbo said and turned the sausages once more. They were turning pleasantly crispy. "Well, it's going to be a moment still until the potatoes are done, so why don't you tell me the names you chose for your ponies?"

The boys brightened and started giving him more and more ridiculous suggestions. It started harmlessly enough with ‘Pony One’ and ‘Pony Two’ and quickly escalated into ‘Baldamon the Terrific’ and ‘Calembor the Fearless’. Bilbo’s brows practically disappeared into his curls.

“Ok, lads!” he said after another, even more ridiculous name. The brothers clearly tried to outdo each other and were completely missing the point. “You’re naming _ponies_ ,” he reminded them. “Not... dragons or... or legendary warriors. Something simple will do.”

The boys looked at each other and then at him.

“What would you call your pony then, Bilbo?” Fíli asked.

Bilbo shrugged and blew at the steaming potato on his fork.

“Probably a plant name,” he said. “They’re both girls, so maybe something like Daisy or Myrtle?”

“Oh! We can call the creamy one Pearl!” Kíli said excitedly.

Fíli rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“You know what pearls mean. You are really not as innocent as you think.”

“It’s your pony.”

“And what is _that_ supposed to mean?”

Bilbo shook his head and left them to their bickering. He took out the potatoes and put them on a large plate. Then he did the same with the sausages and, instead of taking them to the dining area, simply put them on the kitchen table next to the salad. The boys carried on bickering while he distributed the plates and cutlery, but stopped when Bilbo sat across from them and helped himself to a healthy dose of potatoes and onions.

For all their complaining about being too full, the brothers wolfed down the food with flattering enthusiasm. They still made occasional efforts to outdo each other with pony names — which were getting ridiculous again; _no one_ was going to call a pony Red Rutilated Quartz if Bilbo had any say in the matter — but they mainly focused on their food. Soon, the conversation steered towards the herbs Bilbo used for cooking, and then to his garden.

“It’s time for me to plant cabbages,” Bilbo said. “I have some salvia seedlings I could grow next to it. Or maybe mint would be better..." he trailed off, choosing and discarding options.

"Would you show us your garden, Bilbo?" Fíli asked, pulling him away from his thoughts. He beamed at the boys.

"You'd want to see it?" he asked, already excited.

“Of course we would!” Kíli said and stuffed another potato in his mouth. “Gandalf said you’re the best gardener in all of Middle-earth!”

Bilbo spluttered and blushed.

“I’m pretty sure he didn’t say that,” he muttered.

“Oh, he did!” Fíli said.

Bilbo sighed and let it slide. After all, he _was_ a good gardener, even if he still thought that Gandalf vastly exaggerated his skills for his own obscure purpose.

“Well, it _is_ a lovely garden,” Bilbo said. "Let’s just get the ponies to the stables and then—"

"But we thought..." Kíli interrupted him and looked helplessly at Fíli. "We thought the ponies could stay!"

"We bought them food," Fíli added.

Bilbo blinked at them and sighed.

"Look," he started. "I don't know why you insist on making them stay here. They have very little space by the back entrance, and I'm definitely not letting them come into my garden!" Fíli pursed his lips and glared at the table while Kíli's expression grew all wounded again. "There's a large pasture by the stables where they would be much happier."

"But we still haven't chosen any names!" Kíli protested and looked pleadingly at Bilbo.

"And we could arrange for them to be more comfortable," Fíli said. "Although I really think they're quite happy here."

The boys both looked at him with wide hopeful eyes and Bilbo cursed himself for being a sentimental fool.

"Fine!" he said, and the boys grinned. "But you have to take care of them. And if I see them in my garden—"

"That won't happen," Fíli assured him.

"We'll take care of Throwing Knife and Poisoned Arrow," Kíli added. "We promise!"

Bilbo grimaced and shook his head.

"Just promise you won't call them that," he said.

"We promise," Fíli said and looked pointedly at his brother who just pouted.

"Well then," Bilbo said. "Come with me."

He took the brothers out the back door. They passed by the ponies and paused in front of a low gateway. Bilbo looked at the boys and smiled.

"Welcome to my garden," he said and opened the gateway.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why did I think it would be a good idea to write about gardening again? I killed every plant I ever tried to grow.xD So. A big shout-out to my grandma, who had the patience to answer all the questions I had for her. She says she's not a gardener, but she has a big, beautiful garden that Bilbo would love. And she also corrects the Internet.;)

Bilbo knelt by the ruined pea patch in his garden and clenched his jaw. There wasn’t much he could salvage. It was more bare ground now than anything else. He should probably just get rid of the rest of the seedlings and prepare the soil all over again. It wasn’t too late yet to sow new pea seeds.

And yet, he was rather impressed with the seedlings that did manage to survive. They were few and far between, and looked rather pathetic. Like accidental survivors of a great battle — which was actually pretty accurate. Maybe he could grow them in a pot on the southern window...

The back entrance to his smial opened and two young dwarves came out of it, laughing. The sound grated on Bilbo’s nerves and he twitched his nose before standing up and glaring at the boys. They fed the ponies some oat grains, shushing each other and giggling, and then came face to face with Bilbo when they turned to leave.

He only glared harder.

After a moment of silent staring, Fíli grabbed Kíli by the elbow and dragged him back into Bag End.

Good.

Bilbo sighed and went to retrieve a long pot for the peas. He couldn’t stay angry at the boys for too long. It wasn’t even their fault. Well, technically, it very much _was_ , but Bilbo shouldn’t have agreed to let them help around the garden. He should have realised that there was probably a good reason for the Dwarves to seek help of a gardener outside their own race. And, sweet Yavanna, was there one!

The boys had loved his garden, as he had hoped they would. It wasn’t in full bloom yet: the roses only just began to bud and the lilacs still needed a bit more time to open. But the variety of spring flowers had had the boys staring in wonder.

Bilbo had led them through the winding paths of his garden, explaining everything with a proud smile. They had passed by a row of carefully groomed forsythia bushes. The vibrant yellow blooms had already begun to fall on the path, but there was still enough of them to brighten the place. Bilbo had taken his shears and cut a small sprig of forsythia for each dwarf. They had seemed confused about the purpose of it until Bilbo had cut himself a sprig and had put it in his curls, just behind the ear.

The boys had grinned and followed his example.

“Do you often wear flowers in your hair, Bilbo?” Fíli had asked.

Bilbo had shrugged.

“This is minor, trust me,” he had said. “We like to wear flower crowns, especially the fauntlings. It’s also an important part of courting, so you can see many of them during Lithe. The flowers used are meant to represent the person who wears them.”

The boys had exchanged glances.

“And do these flowers mean anything?” Kíli had asked, pointing helpfully at his forsythia sprig.

“Oh, well, _yes_ ,” Bilbo had said. “But nothing bad, don’t worry. It just stands for anticipation.”

They had followed the path in silence for a while, leaving behind the roses and forsythias. When they had reached the corner where Bilbo kept barrels with water, the boys had gotten curious again.

“Is the water special?” Kíli had asked, peeking over the edge of a barrel.

“Special?” Bilbo had said and frowned. “No, that’s... that’s just water.”

Kíli had reached into the barrel, but Fíli had swatted at his hands.

“But what does it do?” Fíli had asked.

Bilbo had blinked at them, half convinced they were joking. But they had just looked at him with identical expectant expressions and that was the first time Bilbo had realised how clueless Dwarves really were about gardening.

So in the end, he had just said, “it helps the plants grow,” and left it at that.

The boys had thankfully quickly forgotten about the water when the path had taken the turn to the left and they had found themselves surrounded by a variety of colour. On both sides of the path there were beds of spring flowers: crocuses mixed with pansies, daffodils standing proud among the tulips, hyacinths consorting with daisies and primroses. Several plants climbed over a long wooden trellis. The ivy was taking up most of the space, creating an illusion of a green leafy wall, but the vibrant colours of the clematis and bougainvillea provided a nice contrast.

“I have never seen so many flowers!” Fíli had said with awe.

Bilbo had frowned, because it was still only spring flowers in bloom. His garden was much more plentiful in summer.

“Do they all have a meaning?” Kíli had asked. “Like gems have for us?”

“Uh... yes,” Bilbo had said. “They all have meanings.”

Fíli had stepped closer to the flower bed and had started inspecting the tulips. He’d kept poking at the undeveloped blossoms, as if expecting them to hold some answers inside.

“Is there a flower that means ‘grumpiness’?” Kíli had asked, watching his brother.

“’Grumpiness’?” Bilbo had asked, astonished. “What? No! That’s not even... Why would anyone want to tell other people that they’re feeling grumpy?”

Really, Bilbo had thought, Dwarves had very strange ideas about life.

“No reason,” Fíli had said with a shrug.

“We were actually thinking that it would be useful another way ‘round,” Kíli had added.

“For... important purposes, you see.”

“Our uncle is grumpy all the time.”

“That’s one of our uncles, actually. We have two.”

“We thought maybe we could tell him that with a secret message.”

They had grinned at him and Bilbo had just looked between them, not entirely sure what to make of it. Had they really just asked him how to prank their uncle with a flower?

“But...” he had started. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to give him a flower that means ‘cheerfulness’? To let him know you would like to see him happy? The crocuses here—”

“No, no, no!” Kíli had interrupted him. “We can’t have that!”

“We don’t want to tell him to cheer up.”

“We just want to let him know when he’s being grumpy.”

Bilbo had blinked at them and sighed. They were nearly as bad as the fauntlings who had just learned their flowers and decided to send each other secret messages, ruining several gardens in the process.

“There’s no flower for grumpiness!” he had said.

The boys had looked at him with obvious disappointment on their young faces, until Kíli had grinned.

“What about ‘brooding’?” he had asked.

Bilbo shook his head at the memory and looked down at his ruined peas. He sighed and filled the pot with soil. Then he started carefully pulling the seedlings from the ground and planting them in the pot.

It was not the boys’ fault that Dwarves were apparently hopeless at gardening. And couldn’t be trusted around plants. And had absolutely no connection to the earth whatsoever — unless there were rocks involved. But still, they had managed to badly damage his garden in just one afternoon and Bilbo didn’t stop being upset about it just yet.

He grabbed the pot and took it to the greenhouse. The peas would be protected from the elements there and maybe the strongest ones would survive the uprooting.

Bilbo looked around the greenhouse and felt himself relax, if only just a little. It was the one place that the boys’ destructive force didn’t reach. He took a deep breath and smiled at the neat rows of growing bell peppers and tomatoes.

The boys had not found the greenhouse very interesting. Maybe it was because they had seen some before, or maybe they had just thought the flowers more impressive.

They had followed the flower beds until the end of the path, and then turned left to enter the greenhouse. There was another water barrel by the entrance and Bilbo had forcibly steered Kíli away from it. The moment they had entered the greenhouse, Bilbo had expected the usual flood of questions, but the brothers had just stood there, unimpressed. Then Fíli had noticed the gardening tools Bilbo kept there on hand and had examined them with a frown.

“Are these made in the Shire?” he had asked, looking at the metal bits of Bilbo’s shovel.

“No,” Bilbo had said, with a frown of his own. “Not exactly. There’s a forge in the Shire, but Hobbits are not very keen on... um... forging things. These are from the Bree traders.”

“Men?” Fíli had asked and Bilbo had nodded. “Thought so. This is really poor craftsmanship.”

Bilbo had pursed his lips and crossed his arms.

“Well, they do their job,” he had said.

Fíli had shrugged and put the shovel back.

“For now,” he had said.

“We could make you much better ones,” Kíli had added, already entirely too excited for Bilbo’s liking.

Bilbo had looked from Fíli to Kíli and back, and had wisely decided not to open a discussion. He’d had a feeling that Dwarves were very particular when it came to any kind of work in metal. He had wordlessly shooed the boys out of the greenhouse.

“It’s very hot in there,” Kíli had said, again seemingly fascinated with the water barrel. “Do you use the water to cool the plants?”

Bilbo had blinked at him, but Kíli had looked so sincerely curious, with his wide eyes and expectant smile. So Bilbo had just pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“ _No_ ,” he had said. “It’s warm in there, because those plants actually like the warmth!” He had pursed his lips and decided to explain it as simply as possible. “They just... get thirsty sometimes.”

Kíli had frowned at the greenhouse and shrugged.

“If you say so.”

“Kee, look!” Fíli had called him excitedly before he could say anything else. Both Bilbo and Kíli had turned to look at the dwarf, who had been standing by the greenhouse and looking at the other side of the path.

“Ah,” Bilbo had said and cleared his throat. “These are magnolia trees. And the lilacs, but those are not yet in bloom.”

“They’re so bright and plentiful!” Fíli had said. He had grabbed his brother’s elbow and had pulled him towards the pink blossoms.

“We should have something like this in Erebor!” Kíli had replied, looking at the trees with awe.

Bilbo had leaned on the water barrel, crossed his arms and grinned. Well then. Maybe the dwarves had finally seen the value of plants. The beauty of them, the appeal—

“We could build it with metal and gems,” Fíli had said.

—or maybe not.

“Wait, no, no, no!” Bilbo had protested and marched towards the boys.

“We could maybe use kunzite,” Kíli had said. Bilbo had emitted a sound of distress, but they had both ignored him. “Perhaps quartz or tourmaline.”

“Or we could use other colours,” Fíli had said. “It would look lovely with sapphires and emeralds.”

“Now will you just listen for a moment...” Bilbo had said, though he could have as well been talking to the ponies. Or worse. The ponies might actually listen to him.

“Maybe build it around a source of light.” Kíli had ignored him and squinted at the sun.

“Alright, you two!” Bilbo had said, raising his voice, and the boys had finally acknowledged him. “Why don’t you just _plant the tree_ in Erebor, if you like it so much?”

The brothers had exchanged glances and looked at him with matching frowns.

“Like _Elves_?” Kíli had asked, lacing the word with as much venom as possible.

Bilbo had crossed his arms and glared at them.

“Or like Hobbits,” he had said. “Or Men, for that matter.”

But Fíli had only shaken his head.

“Even if we wanted to plant it in Erebor,” he had started.

“Which we don’t,” Kíli had said.

“There’s very little natural light in the mountain.”

“Very little. There are skylights on some levels, but it’s mostly candles.”

“And we wouldn’t know what to do with it.”

“Yes. Terrible with plants and all that.” Kíli had waved his hands around, as if trying to show Bilbo what ‘all that’ had meant.

“And gemstones wouldn’t wilt.” Fíli had said, getting away from his brother’s wild gesticulation.

Back in the greenhouse, Bilbo sighed and shook his head. He wouldn't be at all surprised if it was Yavanna herself who had cursed the King of Erebor. Maybe it was some kind of an elaborate plan to get the Dwarves interested in plants. Or maybe not, seeing as they didn't intend to learn.

Bilbo itched for his pipe. Blowing smoke rings into the air always helped him relax. He had left the pipe on the mantlepiece, however, and he didn't quite fancy going into his smial with the boys inside. He wasn't ready to face them without getting angry just yet.

His shoulders slumped and he watered the peas before taking the shears and leaving the greenhouse. Right next to it there was his lovely arched trellis for climbing roses. Which the boys had of course tangled themselves into. Bilbo sighed and started cutting the twigs that needed it. Those two were walking disasters and Bilbo wondered how they had even managed to stay alive on their journey from Erebor to the Shire.

It had been Kíli who had first noticed the trellis. He had been trying to prove a point in their discussion about replicating the magnolia tree in Erebor when he had stopped mid-gesture, blinked, and grinned.

“What is this, Bilbo?” he had asked.

“Mm?” Bilbo had not been paying attention, busy being offended on the behalf of his poor magnolias. It had taken him a moment to notice that Kíli had been pointing at the arched trellis. “Oh, well, it’s for the climbing roses,” he had explained. “My mother loved the little arcade they make, and the shade is good for the lilies of the valley.”

It had been his father’s idea to put the white bell-like flowers under the arcade of roses, and it worked surprisingly well. The delicacy of the lilies of the valley contrasted very nicely with the opulence of the roses. Neither of them were in bloom yet, but the construction itself was apparently impressive enough that the boys had shifted their focus to it.

Bilbo had ignored them, not ready for another discussion about how gems were superior to plants. That’s probably why he hadn’t noticed Kíli approaching the trellis to have a better look. A startled yelp had gotten his attention and he had turned from where he’d been contemplating the magnolias to see the lad struggling with the roses.

“Don’t... don’t move!” he had said.

Kíli had ignored him, which probably shouldn’t have come as a surprise. The thorns had caught on his clothes and he had been forcibly trying to disentangle himself from them, only making things worse. He had now also sported a few shallow cuts on his hands.

Before Bilbo could reach him, Fíli had rushed to his brother’s aid. With all the squirming and turning, however, they had both predictably managed to get terribly tangled in the twigs.

“Just stop moving!” Bilbo had yelled at them, and this had finally worked; the boys had both looked at him with wide eyes, to which Bilbo had only glared. He hadn’t felt the need to yell at people since his tween years!

“The plants attacked us!” Kíli had whined.

“They are roses,” Bilbo had said patiently. “They have thorns. What exactly did you expect?”

The boys had only exchanged helpless glances. Bilbo had sighed and told them _not to move_ while he’d gone to retrieve his trusty gardening gloves and some shears. Fíli and Kíli had mercifully listened to him for once, and Bilbo had made a quick job of setting them free.

“Are you quite certain that the garden in Erebor is in any way magical?” he had asked, with his glare still in place. “Or are you just that bad at gardening?”

The boys had looked properly apologetic at that, which had lessened some of Bilbo’s irritation.

“But the Men!” Kíli had blurted out.

“And the Elves too!” Fíli had added.

“They tried getting into that garden as well.”

“And it didn’t work!”

“And Gandalf is a wizard! He should know!”

Bilbo had looked from Fíli to Kíli and sighed. They had not been badly damaged by the thorns; the multiple layers of clothing that Dwarves seemed to favour had prevented any serious injuries to their bodies. Their tunics, however, had been torn in various places, and the cuts on their hands had had to sting. They had also lost their forsythia sprigs.

“Fine,” Bilbo had said and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just... don’t touch anything until I tell you it’s safe.”

Now, Bilbo neatly pruned the small disaster and thanked the Green Lady that the roses had stopped the boys from trampling all over the lilies of the valley.

He took a step back and regarded his work. There were still a few wayward twigs, but Bilbo was hopeful that he would be able to tuck them in properly when they grew a bit. He nodded to himself, his spirits lifting. He left the shears in the greenhouse and followed the path to the vegetable patches. The tomato patch was slightly trampled on, but only on the edges, which Bilbo counted as a victory. 

He very deliberately didn’t think about the carrots.

The boys had not been very interested in his vegetables. If anything, they had been rather perplexed.

“These don’t look like carrots,” Fíli had said, eyeing the seedlings sceptically.

Bilbo had blinked at him and then back at his carrots.

“Yeah!” Kíli had said. “Aren’t they supposed to be red?”

“What?” Bilbo had asked. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you know!” Kíli had said, waving his hands around. “Red, long, sort of sweet.”

Bilbo had gaped at him for a moment before taking a deep breath. Then another one. Then he’d pinched the bridge of his nose.

“They’re not ready yet!” he had told them. “They don’t just... magically appear the day after you plant them!”

“Why not?” Fíli had asked.

“What?”

“Why don’t they?”

“Because it’s not how it works!” Bilbo had exclaimed, about ready to pull his hair out. “You need to care for the plant, allow it to grow and then—”

“But that’s such a waste of time!” Kíli had complained.

Bilbo had levelled a look at him and crossed his arms.

“And when you make jewellery, it just suddenly appears before you?” he had asked.

Kíli had only frowned, but Fíli had looked thoughtfully at the carrots.

“Mm... I’ve never thought of it like that. Makes sense, I suppose.” He had looked at Bilbo then, with a twinkle in his eye. “Although the garden in Erebor did rather appear quite suddenly.”

Bilbo had groaned and deemed the whole conversation pointless. There was another water barrel at the end of the tomato patch and one more word from the boys could have resulted in a pair of wet dwarves. It probably wouldn’t have been worth it, what with the wet, muddy trail they would leave in his hobbit-hole, but the idea had been tempting.

Fortunately for the brothers, they had soon become interested in Bilbo’s berry bushes. They had grown excited when Bilbo had named the fruits: there were raspberries, blueberries, blackberries, redcurrants and blackcurrants. The boys had looked at him, brimming with energy, as if waiting for his permission to pick the berries, and Bilbo had sighed.

“There’s no fruit on them yet,” he had said and observed the disappointment showing on their faces.

“That’s too bad,” Kíli had murmured, fidgeting with the tear in his tunic. “Uncle loves blueberries. Maybe if we took him some, he would— Ow!”

He had glared at Fíli who had smacked him upside the head. Bilbo had looked at them thoughtfully for a moment, but eventually he had just shrugged and continued with the tour of his garden.

There was another long flower bed on the other side of the path from the berry bushes. It was where the forget-me-nots his father had liked so much grew. More tulips mingled with camellias, scillas and hyacinths, while purple rhododendron thrived in the partial shade of the grape trellis.

The boys had been much more appreciative of the flowers, which had lifted Bilbo’s spirits somewhat.

Until they’d reached the large wooden crates where Bilbo kept the compost.

“Ew!” Kíli had exclaimed and pinched his nose shut. “What is this foul thing?”

Fíli had not been so dramatic in his reaction, but he had also looked at the decomposing plants and manure with obvious disgust.

“Why do you have this in your garden, Bilbo?” he had asked.

Bilbo had sighed and explained about fertilizing the soil and why it was good for the plants. The boys had both looked at him blankly and Bilbo had assumed it would be the end of that.

He should have been paying more attention.

As soon as the tour around the garden had finished, the boys had disappeared. Bilbo had shrugged, put his forsythia sprig in the water, and started making brownies for the afternoon tea.

Soon enough, strange noises and... unpleasant smells had alerted him that he should check on the boys. He had followed the smell right into his bathroom where two helpful dwarves had been in the middle of disassembling his toilet and rearranging his plumbing.

"What in the name of all the Valar are you doing?" Bilbo had exclaimed, horrified.

The boys had beamed at him. Like that was an appropriate response to being caught destroying someone else's property.

"We're helping with your garden!" Kíli had said excitedly.

"You said dung helps the plants grow," Fíli had said, taking a knife to one of his pipes. Bilbo might have whimpered. "So we're going to get you a constant and more direct supply."

Oh, sweet Yavanna! Bilbo didn't even want to think what would have happened if they had succeeded.

"Right," he had croaked. "I really, really hope that's not what you're doing."

Fíli had thankfully frozen in place before he could reach the pipe, and Kíli had looked between his brother and Bilbo with large, confused eyes.

"But," he had started. "You said it was good for the plants! The dung!"

" _Manure_ ," Bilbo had corrected and massaged his temples. "Which is _cow_ dung! And yes, it is good for the plants. But in moderation and at the right moment! Not when the plants are already growing, can you imagine the disaster? Oh dear, my poor flowers!"

He had shuddered at the mental image then, and it was still enough to make his skin break out in gooseflesh now.

It had probably also been the reason why he'd agreed to let the boys help around the garden. They had looked devastated after they'd learned they hadn't been helping. They had looked at him with their large pitiful eyes, and Bilbo could have sworn that Kíli's lower lip had actually quivered.

"We only wanted to help," Kíli had said in a small voice and Bilbo had been lost.

He had sighed.

"I know you did," he'd said. He had hesitated only for a moment. "You can help me weed the garden later," he had told them. "After you fix my plumbing," he'd added with a pointed look.

The boys had nodded vigorously and started assuring him they would make it even better. Bilbo had been wary of what that exactly entailed, but they had managed to fix it. As long as no gems started to appear in his toilet, he should be safe.

Probably.

He sighed and shook his head. At least the brownies had turned out alright. The boys had perked up at the sight of the sweets, while the soothing taste of his herbal tea had helped Bilbo relax.

And then the weeding had started.

Bilbo grimaced and entered the small shed where he kept his tools. Yavanna, had _that_ been a disaster! He had instructed the boys the best he could about what they should do. He had even identified the weeds for them multiple times and questioned them thoroughly before going to sow asters and Evening Stock.

He should have known better.

Bilbo took a shovel and went to where his peas used to be. With a sigh, he started stirring the soil, getting it ready for the new plants.

The peas had gotten the worst of it, followed closely by the carrots. Bilbo had thankfully come to check on the brothers before they could do more damage. The boys had been overeager and had pulled out both weed and vegetable without discrimination. Even the fauntlings as young as seven could tell the difference!

“What did you _do_?!” Bilbo had squeaked with horror when he’d seen the effects of the boys’ efforts.

The brothers had shifted nervously from foot to foot at the sight of Bilbo’s horrified look.

“Um...” Kíli had helpfully supplied.

“We took out the weeds?” Fíli had said, suddenly uncertain.

“No!” Bilbo had exclaimed. “You pulled out my vegetables!” The lads had stared at the ground with contrite expressions. “How did this happen? I showed you the difference!”

Kíli had cleared his throat.

“Yeah, but... they’re both green,” he had said.

“And small,” Fíli had added.

“And there isn’t that much difference, really—”

“Of course there’s a difference!” Bilbo had interrupted them. They had hung their heads and made very convincing impressions of kicked puppies. Bilbo had pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Look. Why don’t you let me finish here and go rest by the pond?”

“The pond?” Kíli had asked, suddenly eager again. “You have a pond?”

“Yes,” Bilbo had drawled, a little warily. Kíli’s enthusiasm had made him suspicious. But he had also wanted to take the boys as far away from his vegetables as possible. “Follow me,” he had said.

They had trailed after him on the path between the carrots and the radishes and then to the left of the neatly cut grass until they had reached the small, shallow pond in the shade of two apple trees. There was an empty vegetable patch, ready to be planted with cabbages and cauliflowers just to the right.

“Frogs!” Kíli had exclaimed and crouched by the rocks that circled the pond. Fíli had been more restrained in his actions, but he had been visibly brimming with enthusiasm.

Bilbo had looked at them in alarm, before glaring and crossing his arms.

“You are not to harm the frogs!” he had said. “Or the fish.”

“We won’t,” Fíli had promised.

Bilbo had pursed his lips, not entirely convinced. He had nodded sharply and gone to salvage his carrots. A pained yelp that had echoed in the air not long after that had made him run right back.

“What is it _now_?” he had asked, more than a little impatient, before taking in the sight before him.

This time, it had been Fíli. The boys had helped themselves to the smaller stones from around the pond and had clearly been stone skipping to the frogs’ displeasure. And then, they had apparently decided to juggle some bigger rocks, which had, _of course_ , resulted in injury.

How were these two still alive?

Bilbo had sighed and massaged his temples.

“Let me see your head,” he had said.

“No, it’s fine,” Fíli had said, rubbing at the spot on his forehead where the rock had landed. “I’m used to it.”

Bilbo had frowned and crossed his arms.

“You are used to getting hit in the head with rocks,” he had said sceptically.

“We all are!” Kíli had helpfully chipped in. “Especially miners, but you wouldn’t believe how many things go flying around in the roy—”

“We have thick skulls,” Fíli had interrupted his brother, looking at him pointedly. Kíli’s eyes had widened comically and he had stayed quiet. “We’re said to be created from the stone itself.”

Bilbo had narrowed his eyes at them, not for the first time feeling that they were hiding something. They had both quickly assumed innocent expressions and he had just sighed.

“Well, you don’t seem to have any cuts,” he had said, coming closer to better examine Fíli’s forehead. “You will probably have a nasty bump though.”

Fíli had shrugged and grinned at Bilbo.

“Will I get more brownies now?” he had asked.

Bilbo huffed and shook his head with a fond smile. He finished stirring the soil and leaned on the shovel. Those boys were going to be the death of him. They had already started on his garden.

He went back to the shed to leave the shovel. He’d had more than enough gardening for one day, thank you very much. There was just one more thing he needed to do.

He made a beeline between the vegetable patches, passed the pond and stood at the edge of his lovely green lawn. Or at least it had been lovely before it had been subjected to the works of some very annoying pests. Bilbo shook his head. To be fair, this time it wasn’t _entirely_ Fíli and Kíli’s fault.

Bilbo had scolded the boys for their tendency to get in trouble whenever he stopped watching them (and sometimes when he did watch). Then he’d decided to just let them relax on the grass, in the shade of the oak tree. He had let them believe that he was worried about Fíli’s head, when he’d just really wanted them out of trouble for just a moment.

He should have known the day would still have more surprises in store for him.

“What’s that?” Kíli had asked, pointing somewhere to the right.

Bilbo had looked in that direction and groaned.

“You sorry little beast!” he had exclaimed. The brothers had looked at him with wide eyes and Bilbo had sighed. “Not you, Kíli,” he had said, glaring at the offensive sight. “What you’re looking at is a molehill.”

“And... what is that, exactly?” Fíli had asked.

“Oh, I’ll tell you what it is! The bane of my existence, is what it is!” Bilbo had muttered angrily. When only confused silence had answered him, he had sighed and turned to face the boys. “It means there’s a mole in my garden,” he’d explained. “The sneaky creatures make tunnels underground, and they don’t care about any roots they might be destroying.”

“Don’t you also make your homes by digging tunnels underground, Bilbo?” Kíli had asked.

Bilbo had narrowed his eyes at him and crossed his arms.

“Did you just now compare my lovely home to a _mole burrow_?”

“Um... No? Not at all. No!” Kíli had said. “You’re obviously much better at digging tunnels.”

Bilbo’s nose had twitched at that. He had sniffed and put his hands on his hips, ready to give a lecture.

“So the moles are bad for the plants then?” Fíli had hastily interjected. Bilbo had pursed his lips and turned to look at him, but Fíli had kept his composure. “Can you get rid of them?”

“Yes, I can,” Bilbo had said, still mightily annoyed. “But I don’t have time for it now, do I? What with my carrots and—”

“Can we help?” Kíli had asked, all bouncing and grinning, as if the state of the carrots had nothing to do with him.

Bilbo had narrowed his eyes at him, unimpressed.

“No!” he had said. “You most certainly can _not_ help me with my carrots ever again! Or at least until you learn how to recognize weeds and demonstrate—”

“With the mole, Bilbo!” Fíli had interjected again, sending his brother a warning glance. “Can we help with the mole?”

Now that... that had given Bilbo pause. He had not wanted any more help from the boys in his garden, please and thank you, but he could always make it _look_ like they were helping. Then he could work at rescuing his carrots in peace and the boys would be out of the way.

“Fine,” he had said with a sigh. “But you will have to be patient,” he had stressed and given each dwarf a pointed look. They had nodded. “The molehill is clearly fresh, so there’s a good chance the mole will return to it. I need you to keep an eye on it, and when you see something moving in there, you grab a shovel, get the mole out and get it on its back so it can’t run away. The blasted things are _fast_.”

He had left them with a pair of shovels and told them to call for him if anything unusual were to happen. Then, he had walked to the carrot patch, positioned himself strategically so that he could see and hear the boys, and then he had started working on salvaging his ruined vegetables.

The damage had not been as great as he’d feared, but it would still need quite a lot of work to bring the carrots to their former state. Thankfully he had just secured himself some time to do that, without pesky dwarves getting underfoot.

Or so he had thought.

Bilbo still didn’t completely understand how it had all happened, and so fast at that. One moment the brothers had been standing next to the molehill — as still as Bilbo had ever seen them — and the next, they had been running across the lawn, shovels held like weapons and a battle cry on their lips.

“Oh no,” Bilbo had muttered.

He had closed his eyes and taken a deep breath, before getting to his feet and running towards the commotion.

The lads had by then finished attacking the new molehill that the mole had apparently escaped through, and had started running again, leaving behind heaps of ground and grass. Bilbo had pursed his lips and followed them. He had caught up with the brothers just as they had been preparing to attack another molehill.

“That would be enough!” Bilbo had said.

“But we almost got it!” Kíli had protested with a whine.

“I don’t care!” Bilbo had exclaimed. “Look what you’ve done to my lawn!”

"But that's only because we had to dig the mole up!" Kíli had said. "You were right, Bilbo! It is really fast. But if I could just get my bow—"

"No!" Bilbo had interrupted him. He had leaned forward and wiggled a finger in front of Kíli’s nose. “No, no, no, _no_. You will not get a bow! In fact, you and your brother are going to leave my garden and let me restore some order to the mess you’ve made!”

“But Bilbo—” Fíli had tried protesting, but changed his mind at the look Bilbo had sent in his direction. He had swallowed, wordlessly grabbed Kíli by the elbow and dragged him out of the garden and into Bag End. Bilbo had looked after them with his arms crossed and his jaw set, and had only deflated when they had disappeared in his smial.

Now, he stood on the edge of the lawn and sighed. There was now a fourth molehill towering over the grass, which wasn’t exactly a surprise, given that the other three had been disturbed, if not completely destroyed. Bilbo debated destroying that one as well, in a much more efficient manner, but decided to let it be. He had no energy left for this and his garden was already a disaster. He just hoped that the mole would stay away from his flowers.

Bilbo gathered the shovels that the dwarves had left on the grass and carried them back to the shed. He cast one last mournful glance at his garden and left through the gateway. The ponies neighed when they saw him and he came closer to pet them. They immediately started sniffing him in search of food, making Bilbo chuckle.

"Sorry," he said. "I don't have anything with me this time." He gently patted each of them on the neck. "And I need to feed those two confusticated dwarves, who probably don't even own you." The creamy one let out a huff, as if in agreement. "I'll send them to you with some apples."

He delivered one more affectionate pat to each pony and entered his smial. He nearly jumped at the sight of the brothers waiting for him by the back door. He stared at them and they stared back.

"What is it?" Bilbo asked, bracing himself.

The lads exchanged glances and Fíli cleared his throat.

"We are very sorry, Bilbo," he said. "About your garden."

"We didn't mean to ruin it," Kíli added.

"Well, we hope it's not completely ruined."

"Yes. It's a lovely garden, Bilbo! Very lovely!"

"We will compensate you for any losses you have suffered because of us," Fíli said seriously. "And we won't impose on your hospitality any longer."

"We can go camp in the woods!" Kíli said, nodding. "Or by the river so Orc Trampler and Elf Biter won't get thirsty."

"And we're still not calling them that," Fíli said, glaring at his brother.

"Right," Kíli said, with a slight pout. They looked at each other for a moment before turning to stare expectantly at Bilbo.

Bilbo pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"Now don't be silly," he said and levelled a look at the brothers. "You're staying with me."

He passed them in the hall and started for the pantry. After a moment of stunned silence, the lads followed him.

"Here, take these to the ponies,” Bilbo said, handing each boy an apple. “They were searching my pockets for some treats before.”

The lads took the apples, but still looked at Bilbo with wide, bewildered eyes. And they didn’t move one bit towards the ponies.

Bilbo sighed and shooed them away from his pantry.

“We’ll talk when you come back,” he told them.

That at least made them move, and they left Bag End through the back door, muttering between themselves.

Bilbo shook his head at them and gathered some meat and vegetables for dinner. He was still upset about the whole situation, but he didn't have much energy left to stay angry at the boys. If anything, he just felt resigned. He really should have known better than to let them help with the gardening. And he certainly wasn’t going to throw the boys out of his smial. He had taken them in when he had barely known them, and he definitely wasn’t going to let them camp by the river now when a much more sensible option was available.

It didn't mean they were entirely forgiven though.

Bilbo put the vegetables on the kitchen table and seasoned the meat with salt, pepper and herbs while he waited for the dwarves to return. When they finally appeared in the kitchen, they looked rather apprehensive and unsure.

“Sit down, would you?” Bilbo said. “Don’t just hover like that, it's hardly proper!”

The boys exchanged glances and took places at the table. They looked at the mountains of vegetables in front of them and blinked.

“Well, go on then!” Bilbo said. “They’re not going to peel and chop themselves!”

“But…” Kíli started. “But why?”

Bilbo was tempted for a while to pretend he didn’t understand, but in the end he just sighed and came to sit with the boys.

“You did damage to my garden,” he admitted and couldn’t quite stop the grimace from showing on his face. “And I am still upset about the whole sorry business. But it wasn’t entirely your fault.”

“Well, no,” Kíli agreed. “There was also the mole.”

Bilbo huffed and shook his head.

“Yes, there was the mole. But I also shouldn’t have expected you to have any gardening knowledge when you insisted that you had none.”

“So we’re fine?” Fíli asked cautiously.

“We’re fine,” Bilbo said. “I’m not going to throw you out of my home! I will have it known that I’m a respectable hobbit, and I treat my guests with due care. And I certainly don't need you to cover my expenses!"

Kíli smiled at him tentatively.

“We _are_ really sorry, Bilbo,” he said.

“I know.”

“Do you want me to shoot the mole for you? Because I can do that! I’m a great archer! I—”

“No!” Bilbo interrupted him, crossed his arms and glared. “You are never helping me in my garden _ever_ again. It's really no wonder that you need a gardener.”

“So will you come with us to Erebor and help?” Fíli asked.

Bilbo opened his mouth to reply, but then snapped it closed and swallowed the sharp retort. The boys were both looking at him with wide, expectant eyes, and Bilbo didn't need any more of that, thank you!

“Take care of the vegetables, please?” he said instead. “And Kíli...”

“I know! Don’t stick my fingers in my eyes!”

“Exactly!” Bilbo smiled at them and went back to preparing the meat. “Oh, and you are eating all of those greens!" he told them with a smirk.

The two identical groans already made Bilbo feel a little better.


	4. Chapter 4

 

Bilbo spent the better part of the next few days tending to his garden. He briefly considered Dwarfproofing it in some way, but gave up on that idea pretty quickly. Knowing the boys, they would evade — or destroy — every single defence Bilbo set against them if they were determined enough.

So Bilbo opted for letting the garden be and keeping the dwarves occupied with other things, at least when he was busy planting the cabbages. He sent the boys to the mill and asked them to carry back a sack of flour. They obliged eagerly when Bilbo told them he was going to use the flour to bake more sweets. When they came back with not one, but two sacks, Bilbo only shook his head at them fondly and started making apple tarts.

He also tried sending them to the market once, but he dropped that idea immediately after they returned. They were gone almost the whole morning, and the vegetables they brought home were already past their prime, if one wanted to be polite about it, and Bilbo crossed his arms, tapped his foot impatiently and made the boys revisit the compost crates. With supervision, of course. They dumped the mostly rotting greens inside the crates, ostensibly holding their breaths.

They should count themselves lucky that Bilbo didn't make them eat the bad vegetables.

They were surprisingly good at selecting tasty pieces of meat though, so Bilbo let them do that when he brought them with him to the market. He pretended not to notice how excited the fauntlings got when they saw the dwarves and certainly did _not_ think about all the mischief they’d probably gotten into that one time he’d let them go to the market without supervision.

He still made the boys help him prepare the vegetables, and then made sure they ate their share — no matter how much they protested. Bilbo knew it was mostly for show, as they devoured all the food he prepared with equal enthusiasm.

He once asked them about their little theatrics.

“It’s the principle of the matter!” Fíli replied seriously while Kíli muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like ‘Elves’.

So Bilbo let them be, but still made sure they ate all their greens.

He also got rid of the mole.

The dratted creature thankfully kept out of his prized tomatoes, at least from what Bilbo could see, and that was its saving grace. No one and no _thing_ touched his tomatoes unless they wanted to awaken Bilbo’s Took side. It made his blood sing with rage, like the Bullroarer’s must have done at the sight of goblins. So Bilbo trapped the mole and gave it to the boys with very specific instructions on how to dispose of it.

And if Lobelia’s dreadful garden was suddenly infested with molehills, it was just a happy coincidence.

Bilbo finished watering the strawberries and stretched. It really was a pity that the boys didn't come visit later in the year, when he could make them strawberry cake or perhaps some muffins, or even simple whipped cream to eat the fruits with.

He shook his head at his own silly sentimentality and put the watering can back next to the nearest water barrel. They weren't fauntlings waiting for a treat; they came to the Shire to spirit him away on some mad adventure. It would do him good to remember that.

Bilbo left his garden and stood by the gateway with an exasperated smile. He crossed his arms and lifted his eyebrows at the boys who were sprawled all over the bench they had insisted on making, and kept poking and kicking at each other, trying to find a more comfortable position, their bellies slightly distended.

"Finished the tarts, have you?" Bilbo asked, amused.

Kíli groaned while Fíli made a valiant attempt to sit up. He winced in the middle of the movement and changed his mind.

"I still don't understand how Hobbits can eat so much," he muttered.

"Yeah!" Kíli added. "Do you have a hungry dragon in your belly that needs to be fed?"

Bilbo snorted at that image.

"That would have to be the smallest dragon in existence!" he said and shook his head. Then he saw the boys watching him with wide eyes and he sighed. " _No_! I don't have a dragon living inside me. Don't know about Lobelia, though."

Kíli grinned at that.

"She did look like she might start breathing fire the last time she was here," he said. "When you made her return your spoons."

Bilbo hummed, amused by the thought. He remembered how she'd fumed when he'd caught her with her hands literally in his cutlery drawer and he could easily imagine smoke coming out her nose and ears.

He looked at the boys and raised his eyebrows.

“You better make some space in there for dinner,” he said, making the dwarves groan. “I’m making roast chicken.”

The boys predictably perked up at that.

“With the crispy skin?” Kíli asked hopefully.

“And the sauce? Fíli added, with an identical hopeful expression.

Bilbo rolled his eyes, but couldn’t contain a small smile.

“Yes, lads,” he said. “With the skin and the sauce. And salad.”

The boys sighed, but by now they knew that protesting would only get them so far. Which was usually as far as the compost crates, so they wisely kept their comments to themselves.

Bilbo shook his head at them and went into his hobbit-hole.

“Dragon Slayer is a good name for a pony,” Kíli declared.

“It is not!” Fíli complained, right before Bilbo shut the back door behind him.

By the time the boys joined him in the kitchen, Bilbo had already turned the chicken twice, set the potatoes to boil, and was in the process of making a big bowl of salad. The dwarves eyed the bowl suspiciously, as if they expected something to actually jump out of it and attack them. Probably Elves.

Bilbo crossed his arms and gave them a _look_.

“Are you two doubting my cooking skills again?” he asked.

Kíli’s eyes widened innocently while Fíli shook his head energetically.

“Again?” Kíli asked, as if offended by the mere thought.

“We have never doubted your cooking skills!” Fíli added.

"Not at all!"

"Our bellies can prove it!"

"Our own mother won't recognize us when she sees us again."

"We will have to get all our furniture remade!"

"All right, lads!" Bilbo interrupted them, amused. "No need to overdo it." He saw the boys getting ready to protest again and decided to prevent another, no doubt entertaining but wholly unnecessary, exchange or reassurances. "Better tell me about that prank you played on your cousin."

The boys grinned at Bilbo and eagerly launched into the story.

The cousin in question was younger than the both of them (and they were apparently considered adults in Dwarven society, though it still seemed dubious to Bilbo). He was quite hot-headed, which the boys used as an invitation to constantly tease him. They would often rile him up and then suggest he couldn't do this thing or another. The poor lad would of course want to prove them otherwise, which, predictably, often got him into trouble.

One time, there had been a big feast held in celebration of the youngest Prince’s coming of age. There had been a giant cake prepared for the occasion and it had turned into the object of the brothers’ mischief. The cake had been shaped in such a way as to represent the symbols of the line of Durin. It had been left on a low table, so it would be easier to carry into the room where the feast would take place.

And the boys had dared their cousin to jump over it.

They were trying to tell Bilbo that they didn’t actually expect their cousin to accept the dare, but their self-satisfied smiles told a different story.

Their cousin had taken the bait with all the defiance of the young age and had sprinted at the cake from the other side of the kitchen, startling the staff. Before anyone could stop him, he had reached the low table, jumped...

And had landed right in the middle of the cake.

Bilbo couldn’t quite stop himself from laughing, though he knew he probably shouldn’t encourage the boys.

“So what happened then?” he asked, taking the chicken out of the oven. “Did the Prince get his cake?”

“Well, yeah,” Kíli said and smirked. “Only slightly... hollow in the middle.”

“Durin’s emblem was missing a hammer,” Fíli added. “And a large part of the anvil.”

“The stars stayed though!”

Bilbo shook his head and carried the chicken to the table. He put it between the salad and the potatoes, and gestured for the boys to help themselves, which they promptly did.

“And your cousin?” Bilbo asked. “Was he punished?”

“Ah, not exactly,” Kíli said around a mouthful of potatoes.

“He had to help around the kitchen for a month,” Fíli said with a pointed look at his brother.

“Yeah, but...” Kíli paused to swallow another impressive mouthful of food. “Bombur didn’t let him actually help, so he just sat there and ate some fresh treats. And we had to endure those tedious meetings with—”

“Uncle’s partners, I know,” Fíli finished for him and grimaced. “It was awful!”

“We could have helped in the kitchen too!”

Bilbo snorted at that and almost choked on his food.

“Well,” he said, ignoring the two offended looks the boys sent in his direction. “I for one can easily understand why no one actually let you do that.”

“But we help you, don’t we?” Kíli protested, and his lips were wobbling again.

“Yes,” Bilbo said. “But I had to teach you everything, and I would imagine that there wouldn’t be much time for that — or any supervision, really — in the Royal Kitchens.”

The brothers grumbled over their plates, but didn’t argue. To be fair, their skills in the kitchen were still vastly superior to any gardening skills they definitely did _not_ possess.

Bilbo finished his dinner and patted his stomach with a smile. It was a good meal, and there was still enough chicken left for supper. There was only one thing that could add to his contentment.

“I’m going to retire to the parlour and smoke a pipe,” he announced. “You can leave the dishes and join me, if you like.”

The boys jumped at the opportunity, neither of them fond of washing the dishes. Unless it involved throwing them around, of course. Bilbo's poor heart couldn't stand any more of that.

They followed Bilbo to the parlour and started their usual fight for the best place on the couch. Bilbo watched them with amusement from his place in his father's armchair, pipe already in hand. Apparently, the left cushion was more comfortable than the right one, though Bilbo really couldn't tell the difference. He suspected there was something else in play here: the left side of the couch was closer to the fireplace. And while neither dwarf had complained about being cold in Bilbo's smial, they did like to throw things into the fire when they thought he wouldn't see.

This time it was Fíli who won the spot and while he basked in his victory with a smug expression, his brother sat on the other side, glaring daggers at him.

Bilbo shook his head at their antics and puffed at his pipe. The first draw of Old Toby made him hum with satisfaction.

"Tell me something about Erebor," he said.

It had become a usual occurrence during the last few days. At some point in the evening, the three of them would migrate to the parlour and exchange stories. Sometimes, it was Bilbo who amused the boys with a family feud or a tale of his own adventures during his tween years. Usually though, it was the dwarves who shared tales of the great kingdom they lived in.

Bilbo's curious nature often prompted him to ask questions about some aspect of Dwarven culture he found particularly interesting, or about the Lonely Mountain. The boys obliged him to the best of their abilities and painted a fascinating picture that spoke to some part of Bilbo that should forever remain hidden.

He told himself he was simply interested as any scholar would be, but his eyes still shone at the mention of Erebor's great library, and his skin still itched at the thought of hot springs hidden deep in the mountain.

It was a dangerous territory, so Bilbo often found himself steering the conversation in another direction, when the feeling growing under his skin got too close to the surface.

The boys didn't need much prompting and were always happy to change the subject to one of their three favourite topics: the King, their family (especially their uncle), and their own mischief. This time, they chose to tell him about the King.

Or, as they eloquently put it, the tale of how the King's unfortunate fondness for rock puns had become common knowledge.

"There are various secret places in Erebor," Fíli said. "Hidden passages, hideaways, places holding important objects that have no place in the treasury..."

"We know them all!" Kíli said with his usual excitement.

"I don't think we do, Kee," Fíli told him with a frown.

Kíli shrugged, unconcerned.

"Well, maybe not yet then" he said. "We will though."

" _I_ will," Fíli corrected him. "When I'm..." he cut himself off and grimaced. "When I convince Uncle to share his knowledge."

"Yes. And then you will tell me!" Kíli looked at his brother with an innocent expression. "I'm sure you don't want Amad to think I'm feeling left out."

Fíli rolled his eyes and turned back to Bilbo, who had been watching them with badly concealed amusement.

"Anyway," Fíli said pointedly. "There are some doors that are simply hidden very well and if you know their location, you can open them without any problem. Others also require the use of a key. There are also doors that only open at very specific times..."

"And others require a password!" Kíli chimed in. Fíli sent him a look, but Kíli only responded by making some rapid hand gestures that made Fíli sigh.

"A password?" Bilbo asked, curious. "How does it work?"

Fíli consciously relaxed his brow from where he'd been doing his best to ignore his brother's progressively more elaborate gestures.

"Dwarf magic," he said. “The King can change it, but only if he knows the old one.”

Which could become something of a problem, as Bilbo was about to find out.

If Dwarves had something in common with Hobbits, it was probably their love of throwing huge birthday parties, Bilbo decided, as Fíli described yet another birthday celebration in honour of the King. He listened intently and prompted for more details, curious to learn more. Fíli told him that the day had been declared a holiday, that there had been a great feast prepared for the whole mountain, that the boys had been banned from the kitchen by Bombur himself, which had gone a long way to ensure the safety of the cake.

And that the King had drunk rather a lot of ale.

"It was a competition, really," Kíli said.

"Or rather a way for the King to prove something to the Captain of the Guard," Fíli added. Bilbo must have looked confused, because the lad started explaining. "They're friends and cousins. The Captain outdrank the King during the previous feast, so..."

"So the King decided to return the favour," Bilbo finished for him and frowned. "Isn't royalty supposed to be serious and mature?"

The boys looked at each other and started laughing.

Well then. Apparently not.

When the feast had ended, the Royal Family had gone back to their chambers.

The next day, the King had disappeared.

It had sent the whole mountain into a frantic uproar. The guards had been questioned ("glared at until they were shaking," Kíli helpfully supplied) by the Captain, but it had proved fruitless. Search parties had been sent all over Erebor and into the city of Dale. Even the abandoned parts of the mountain had been thoroughly searched. Nothing had showed any sign of the King.

That is, of course, until he had strolled into the Throne Room and asked the worried dwarves gathered there what the whole spectacle was all about and could they please keep the noise down?

"He actually said that!" Fíli said while Kíli was busy trying to catch his breath from all the laughing. "Like the whole thing wasn't his fault in the first place!"

Bilbo tried to relax his jaw, which was aching a bit from smiling too much. It didn’t work very well.

"But where was he all this time?" he asked.

"Ah," Fíli said and grinned. "That's the best part of this story!"

After drinking enough ale to kill any remaining common sense he still possessed ("those were his sister's words!"), the King had decided to go for a walk, without alerting the guard.

Then he had thought it would be a hilarious idea to change all the passwords into rock puns, of all things. Which had been a very unfortunate idea, seeing as he had passed out in the secret armoury, only to find out the door firmly shut upon awakening, and the old password not working.

"It took him hours to go through every rock pun until he found the right one," Fíli said.

"He knows that many?!" Bilbo exclaimed.

"Well, I would imagine he went through other things first."

"He likes to think he's very serious and majestic," Kíli added, nodding enthusiastically between bouts of laughter. "So he probably started with something like war strategy."

"Weaponry."

"Epic ballads."

"But was finally forced to bow to the inevitable," Fíli ended with a smirk. “There’s still a room no one can enter to this day, because the password is as good as lost.”

Bilbo chuckled and was about to ask what happened after the King had shown in the Throne Room, when the doorbell rang. They looked at each other with matching frowns and then glanced in the direction of the door.

"If this is Lobelia again, I swear..." Bilbo muttered and sighed. "Well, there's nothing for it, I suppose," he said and got up from his armchair, leaving the pipe behind. "I'll go and see who comes unannounced at this hour and if it is, indeed, Lobelia, I fully expect you to keep an eye on my silver!"

The boys snickered at that. Bilbo had no doubt that they would start thinking of many different ways to foil his cousin's attempts at stealing his possessions, each one more ridiculous than the other. He rolled his eyes and went to open the door.

It was not Lobelia on his doorstep.

"Are you Mister Baggins?" asked a young redheaded dwarf, with a curious haircut, fidgeting nervously with his mittens. Another dwarf stood at his side and grinned at Bilbo, who was rather fixated on the dwarf’s ridiculous hat.

“I... yes,” Bilbo said after a moment, blinking at them before remembering his manners. He cleared his throat. “Bilbo Baggins. At your service!” He bowed awkwardly. “Are you here on a visit?”

Bilbo didn’t recognize either of them from the market and the boys said nothing about other dwarves coming to visit. But Bilbo was willing to believe it was just a simple social call. More than willing, actually. Because if this was _another_ delegation from the dratted mountain, Bilbo was going to make them _live_ in his compost crates!

“Depends, really,” the one with the hat said and twirled his rather impressive moustache. “Are the Princes here?”

Bilbo blinked at one dwarf, then the other, and frowned.

"The Princes?" he asked, confused. "There are no princes here. Just..."

He trailed off and stared blankly at the evening sky behind the dwarves. Images started to appear in Bilbo's mind, fragments of conversations that hadn't made sense at the time, stories about supposedly different people that were too alike for it to be a simple coincidence.

"I am going to strangle them with rose twigs!" Bilbo muttered. "Fíli! Kíli!" he exclaimed angrily and started marching back towards his parlour.

"Well, I think that's a 'yes'," one of the newcomers said. Probably the one with the hat.

Then there was a terrible, piercing whistle that made Bilbo grimace and turn.

"What did you do that for?" he asked.

To his enormous surprise, it was the one with the mittens who answered.

"I'm just calling the others," he said.

"Others? What others?!" he asked, his growing terror probably showing on his face. Before he could get an answer, however, his back door slammed noisily and the ponies whinnied. "Oh no, you don't!"

He ran for the back door, ignoring the two dwarves calling him from his doorstep and arrived just in time to glare at Fíli and Kíli, who were mounting their ponies.

"Hello, Bilbo," Kíli said, all innocence and big eyes. "Nice evening, isn't it?"

"And where exactly do you think you're going?" Bilbo asked, hands on hips and foot tapping on the ground.

"Oh, you know!" Fíli said, glancing nervously at his brother. "Here and there. I think the ponies fancy a stroll."

“Get down _right this instant_ and explain this sorry business!

“Can’t, sorry,” Kíli said nonchalantly. “We’ll be going now.”

Bilbo pursed his lips and crossed his arms.

"I don't care if you are the Valar themselves!" he told them. "You will get down from your ponies and explain matters, or so help me, I will drag you back into my smial by your hair!"

The dwarves gasped and looked at Bilbo with wide eyes.

"You wouldn't!" Kíli whimpered.

Bilbo narrowed his eyes at them and squared his shoulders.

"I... think he means it, Kee," Fíli whispered, loudly enough to be heard in Buckland.

Bilbo didn't say anything else, just glared at them some more. He was about to make good on his promise, when Fíli slumped in his saddle and finally dismounted the pony.

"Fee!" Kíli protested, but his brother just shook his head.

"It's all right, Kíli," he said. "If they sent guards after us, it's no use running away now."

Kíli muttered unhappily, but followed his brother's example and got down from the pony. Bilbo eyed them suspiciously, but it seemed they didn't plan any funny business.

"Back inside with you two!" Bilbo ordered and raised his eyebrows at them until they both sighed and started walking back towards his smial. They kept their heads low and their shoulders slumped, as if they expected an execution rather than a visit from concerned guards.

Princes! Really, if Bilbo wasn't there for that bizarre conversation, he wouldn't have believed it.

He sighed and rolled his shoulders. He didn't know what he was going to encounter in his home, but something told him that he should brace himself for a strange evening.

The boys waited for him by the back door, fidgeting and sending him nervous glances. He pursed his lips and very gently nudged them inside, which should convince any and all disbelieving relatives of his enormous restraint, thank you very much! He shook his head, took a deep breath and went in himself.

His smial was positively _infested_ with dwarves. There was about a dozen of them trailing mud all over his lovely rugs. They were running around excitedly, pointing out things to each other and stealing his food. Or rather throwing his food around and not caring where it landed. Bilbo watched with horrified awe as one of his prized tomatoes flew right in front of his bookcase.

He took a deep breath and prepared himself to venture into the chaos.

“STOP!!!” a powerful voice echoed in his smial and all dwarves froze in place. Bilbo looked around frantically for the source of the voice and his eyes widened when he realized it belonged to Fíli.

The dwarf’s whole demeanour had changed. Gone was the playful, childlike exterior Bilbo had gotten used to over the last few days. The dwarf standing next to him looked powerful and commanding, and there was something regal in his posture, a glint of leadership in his eyes.

In that moment Bilbo truly believed that Fíli was a prince.

The dwarves recovered quickly, but they didn’t go back to causing mayhem, for which Bilbo was grateful. They looked slightly unsure, as if torn between the need to obey and challenge the Prince. One of them — a big scary lump with tattoos on his bald head — frowned at the jar of cookies that he had stuck his large paw in.

“Your Highness?” a dwarf with white hair and beard said after a moment of silence.

“Put everything back where it belongs and stop making a mess in Master Baggins’ home!” Fíli said.

The dwarves grumbled and muttered and complained, but they started straightening things up. Well, putting things away. Well, leaving them where they stood. Which was why his new stack of parchment met an unfortunate end in the puddle of smashed tomatoes on the ground and his favourite crochet dolly landed on a candle and _caught on fire_.

Bilbo definitely did notlet out a distressed whine after witnessing that, although he would have every right to do just that, thank you very much!

“You’re making it worse!” Kíli exclaimed while putting out the fire. And yes, Bilbo quite agreed with him.

Fíli eyed Bilbo warily and surveyed the scene in front of him.

“Perhaps,” he started cautiously, “it would be better if we discussed things elsewhere.”

Yes, that would be rather preferable. More than preferable. He would very much like to have things explained to him with no risk of his lovely smial getting burned to the ground.

“We’re staying at the Green Dragon,” the white-haired dwarf said. “I’m certain we can have a discussion there, without further involving Master Baggins.”

Bilbo found himself nodding. There weren’t as many valuables at the Green Dragon the dwarves could destroy. Or, at the very least, they would be more used to this kind of unmannered behaviour at an inn. That sounded like a very good idea indeed.

And then the rest of the dwarf’s words sank in.

“What? No! No, no, no, no!” he protested and scowled. “I rather think you lot owe me an explanation!”

The dwarves exchanged glances, looking dubious. Bilbo crossed his arms and glared.

“And we will explain, Bilbo, honest!” Kíli said.

Bilbo only narrowed his eyes at him.

“Like how you explained that you are actually Princes of Erebor?” he said.

Kíli’s eyes widened pitifully, but he at least had the decency to look contrite. Bilbo transferred the glare onto Fíli, who fidgeted and cleared his throat.

“Yes. That,” he said. “We were going to tell you!”

“We were just waiting for the right moment!”

Bilbo eyed the lads sceptically and said nothing.

“Your Highness,” the white-haired dwarf said again. “We have urgent matters to discuss...”

“And we will discuss them,” Bilbo interrupted him and threw Fíli and Kíli a look that promised multiple trips to the compost crates if they even suggested excluding him from this. “But you are right about doing it somewhere else. Fíli, Kíli, carry the kitchen table into the dining room and find more chairs. I’ll start making supper. _Do not let them break anything_!”

The lads nodded, cheered up by the prospect of supper, while the other dwarves murmured between themselves. Bilbo heard the one with the mittens whisper — and _honestly_ , did they even know the purpose of whispering was to keep it quiet? — something about a simple hobbit ordering the Princes around, but paid it no mind. Royalty or not, they were still the ones that ruined his garden. Bilbo rather thought he was entitled to some help, if not outright grovelling.

“And keep that spiky one away from my silver!” he said, before going to the pantry. “He has that look about him that reminds me of Lobelia.”

Both protests and laughter followed him to the pantry, which was blissfully, blessedly free of dwarves. Bilbo leaned back on one of the walls and took a couple of deep breaths.

Right.

Fine.

He had a supper to prepare.


	5. Chapter 5

Watching a couple of dwarves eat was alarming enough. Watching a dozen of them eat was a whole new level of horrifying. Their table manners were appalling, bordering on nonexistent, and they liked to throw perfectly good food from one end of the table to the other, not caring if their aim was true. Bilbo was worried that he might have pulled something inside after all the internal cringing he had done so far.

It didn't help that the boys had squeezed him on the seat between them and kept talking over his head with their mouths full. Bilbo had told them off many times already, because he really wasn't in the mood to dig out half-chewed pieced of chicken from his curls, but they ignored him.

A piece of cheese flew right by his left cheek and landed behind him with a miserable splash. Bilbo snapped his head up and glared at every dwarf sitting on the other side of the table. They all suddenly found their food fascinating enough to stare at it with undivided attention, but here and there a mouth twitched or a beard shook. Insufferable creatures!

When the innocent looking (but apparently not innocent at all) dwarf with knitted mittens started a belching contest, Bilbo had had enough.

"All right, you lot!" he exclaimed over the new round of belching. " _Explain_!"

There was a moment of blessed silence when the dwarves just exchanged slightly confused looks, and then they all started talking at once.

Of course they did.

Bilbo barely resisted the urge to hit the table with his head. Or possibly drown in his tea.

“Fíli?” he said instead, turning pleading eyes to the dwarf beside him.

Fíli shifted in his seat, not quite meeting Bilbo’s eyes. His brother started fidgeting as well and Bilbo sent them both pointed looks.

“Well,” Fíli started and the other dwarves miraculously stopped talking. “We... we saw that no delegation had any luck with bringing you to Erebor, so we decided to come ourselves and plead on the behalf of our family.”

Bilbo frowned.

“All right,” he said. “I can’t really fault you there. Except you never even mentioned that you’re the King’s family!”

“Funny story, that,” Kíli said, rubbing the back of his neck. “We were going to tell you.”

“We really were!”

“But then you just invited us in."

"And treated us as any other dwarves."

"And we rather liked that for a change," Kíli finished.

Bilbo blinked at Kíli and then turned to do the same at his brother.

"And you would have just... what?" he asked, not entirely sure how to react. "Kept up the pretence forever if your guards hadn't grown bored and come looking for you?" A horrible thought occurred to him. "Did you even tell them where you went?"

Fíli and Kíli both stared down at their plates and fidgeted with the cutlery.

"Funny you should ask that," murmured the great tattooed lump that had previously stuck his hand in Bilbo's cookie jar. He glared at each of the boys rather than looking at Bilbo.

"We... didn't?" Kíli offered with a sheepish smile.

"In fact, laddie," the white-haired dwarf cut in, "they didn't tell the guards they were going to the Shire at all."

Bilbo groaned and resisted the urge to smack the boys upside the head. Of course these two silly dwarves had travelled all the way from Erebor without an escort. They had probably scared half the kingdom with their little journey.

"You boys are lucky that you're charming," he said.

"That's the whole line of Durin for you," the spiky dwarf said with a mischievous half-smile. "They stood in line for charm when Mahal handed out brains."

Some of the dwarves started protesting, which only succeeded in making the spiky one even more smug.

Bilbo pinched the bridge of his nose.

“So they just... what?” Bilbo asked the white-haired dwarf. He seemed to be the most reasonable of the bunch. “Up and left the mountain without telling anyone?”

“And imagine the scare they gave us all,” the dwarf said and sent the boys a pointed look. Bilbo had a feeling that he did that quite often. “So soon after an assassination attempt on our King!”

“We thought they got them too, we did!” the dwarf with the hat said.

“But we did tell someone!” Kíli protested at once.

To Bilbo’s surprise, and perhaps slight amusement, the majority of the dwarves groaned or frowned, or expressed their displeasure in other ways that Bilbo very much disapproved of. Like throwing food at the Princes.

“You told _Gimli_ , you dimwits!” the tattooed one muttered and narrowed his eyes at them. The boys squirmed in their seats. “By the time we found him, he was already halfway into his battle armour and spewing nonsense about kidnapping stubborn Halflings!”

Bilbo choked on the tea he was drinking, which provoked a coughing fit. It did _not_ get better when Fíli decided to slap him on the back with his ridiculous Dwarven force, thank you very much!

“I beg your pardon!” he managed to get out eventually. “You were going to _kidnap_ me?!”

He glared first at one Prince, then the other, and crossed his arms.

Everyone ignored him.

"We told him to stay behind!" Kíli said.

"Yes, and your mother told you the same thing," the white-haired dwarf said. "You are lucky that she is busy running the kingdom with Frerin, because she really wanted to come after you."

That made the boys visibly uncomfortable. They fidgeted in their seats and looked at each other over Bilbo's head with terror in their eyes.

"Is their mother really so scary?" Bilbo asked.

"Dís is a formidable dwarrowdam," the white-haired dwarf said. "She would sit on the throne if dealing with annoying nobles wasn't one of the requirements."

"She says she doesn't have the patience for their squabbles," the dwarf sitting beside the spiky one said. His grey hair was neatly braided away from his face.

"So instead she's running the kingdom through her brothers," another dwarf finished, this one with a giant mane of auburn hair.

"So she sent guards after her sons?" Bilbo asked, expecting an easy confirmation. Instead, the dwarves sent him looks both amused and exasperated. "What?" he asked, confused, and looked at the Princes for help.

"None of us is a guard here," the spiky one said. His eyes sparkled, as if he found the idea hilarious.

"Speak for yourself," grumbled the tattooed one and sent him a glare. The spiky one just shrugged and, to Bilbo's dismay, produced a throwing knife from somewhere on his person and started cleaning his nails. Bilbo took a deep breath and looked towards the tattooed one for explanation. "I'm the Captain of the Guard," the dwarf said and didn't volunteer any more information.

Bilbo looked helplessly at the white-haired dwarf.

"The situation called for more... careful measures," the dwarf said, thankfully picking up on Bilbo's confusion. "We didn't want everyone to know that the Princes of Erebor were out there alone in the wild, ready to be dealt with." He gave the boys hard stares that made them shift in their seats. Kíli giggled nervously.

"Lady Dís came up with the idea," the dwarf with elaborate braids said. "She made it known that the Princes went on an official visit to the Iron Hills."

"Most dwarves thought they ran for their lives," the spiky dwarf said and started picking his teeth _with his knife_.

"Hey!" Kíli protested.

The spiky dwarf shrugged.

"Don't look at me, Your Cowardice. I'm not the one who made you two Princelings look bad."

Kíli muttered something under his breath and scowled.

"It worked in our favour, of course," the white-haired dwarf said. "Up to a point.”

"What do you mean?" Bilbo asked with a frown.

"Balin means that sending an army of dwarves in a completely different direction would send a dangerous message," the dwarf with auburn hair said.

"So we selected a few trustworthy individuals from different areas of Dwarven interests and sent them on a pretend visit to the Blue Mountains," Balin said.

Bilbo blinked. He was going to have a headache. While all the explanations made a twisted sort of sense, they also didn't make sense at all.

"Why didn't you just say that you're sending another delegation to the Shire?" he asked. "There’s been so many of you here that I'm sure everyone would believe _that_."

The dwarves all looked at each other and then at Balin.

"While that might be true," Balin said with a frown, "I'm sure Lady Dís had her reasons."

"She didn’t want to risk anyone connecting the facts more than necessary," Fíli said with conviction. He probably knew his mother best. "The Shire is in the same direction though, so it would convince anyone following you."

"We wouldn't have to do all that if you stayed put like your mother told you to," the Captain of the Guard grumbled.

The rest of the dwarves took this as an invitation to voice their own opinions on the subject. Bilbo massaged his temples and wondered if they ever caused a landslide just by arguing. He wouldn't put it past them.

"All right!" he called over the tumult. The dwarves, to their credit, finally went quiet. "What's done is done," Bilbo said. "Now, you said you were representing different areas of interests for the dwarves. What does that mean?"

What followed was a series of introductions accompanied by explanations of their crafts. At the end of it, Bilbo's head was spinning, not only because most names rhymed with others, but also because none of it made any sense to him.

"But, I don't..." he started and looked around the table at the dwarves watching him carefully. "How did you even manage to form your company? It seems so random!"

"Not at all, Master Baggins!" the dwarf with the hat said, apparently called Bofur. "It's all very simple, really."

"Yes. Glóin here is Gimli's father," Dori said. 

"Just don't let him start on the subject," Dori's brother said quickly. It was the spiky one by the name of Nori. He was apparently the Spymaster of Erebor, which made Bilbo feel completely justified in not trusting him with his spoons. "He'll talk your pointy ears off if you're not careful."

Bilbo looked at Glóin, the one with the auburn mane, and was able to catch an indignant expression and a glint of something metallic around the dwarf's neck. Dori glared at his brother while Bofur continued explaining.

"Anyway," he said with a big grin, "Glóin came because Gimli wasn't allowed to and the lad was upset about that."

"Terrorizing the mountain, more like," Nori muttered.

"He would have gone after the group if my dear wife didn't propose sending me instead, he would!" Glóin said with something like pride in his voice.

"He wasn't happy about it, but at least he stopped stomping around the library!" Ori said and grimaced. "The way he treated his Khuzdul books!" The lad squeaked, as if offended on the behalf of the books, and Bilbo immediately resolved to show him his book collection if he got the chance.

"Of course Óin wasn't going to let his brother out of his sight," Balin said, sounding slightly exasperated.

"That's right, I wasn't!" Óin yelled which made Bilbo wince. "He's been a right pest since he left our mother's loins!"

The dwarves collectively burst out laughing. Only Glóin seemed to be contemplating how much power he would have to use to chop his brother’s head off.

"It's still only Glóin and Óin accounted for though," Fíli said over the laughs. "Not that I'm not happy to see all of you," he said, as if he hadn't been ready to escape from all of them not so long ago. "But Bilbo is right. I can see why Dwalin and Balin came. Maybe also Nori, but the rest of you? How did you even find out about it if it was a secret?"

And that was the question, wasn't it? If any random dwarf, from a miner to a scribe, could find out the truth, then it wasn't that much of a secret, was it? Bilbo looked nervously around the table, but the dwarves seemed majorly unconcerned.

"Oh, Bifur and I are only making sure Bombur doesn't get in trouble," Bofur said. The big dwarf at the end of the table sent him an annoyed look. "He figured out that something was wrong when you two Princes didn't show up to steal sweets."

"But that would have also happened if we went to the Iron Hills!" Kíli protested.

Bombur only sent him a disapproving look and finally stopped eating for a moment. Bilbo was reluctantly impressed with his appetite; it could rival that of any hobbit.

"You two rascals would have definitely invaded my kitchen before going anywhere on official matters!" he said. "And don't even try to deny that!" he added and gestured with a spoon in the direction of the boys, who were about to do just that. "I know you two all too well!"

Kíli murmured something under his breath while Fíli adopted his brother's wide-eyed look and hung his head with a miserable air around him.

When Bilbo looked back at Bombur, the dwarf had already resumed his eating.

"We have family in the Blue Mountains," Bofur said, an amused smile on his face. "So we had a believable reason to go. And we didn't tell anyone, of course!"

"Of course," Bilbo muttered and looked at the young scribe currently glaring suspiciously at the lettuce. "What about you, Ori? How did you end up on this journey?"

The young dwarf startled slightly before turning to look at Bilbo with wide eyes.

"Well, um... I found out about it because Nori was going," he said. "And I wanted to come and see the Hobbits."

Bilbo nodded at that. Ori's wording might not have been the most fortunate, but he could understand the need to learn about different cultures. After all, he had interrogated the boys enough about the Dwarves.

"And then Dori, fussy mother hen that he is, decided to tag along to protect our baby boy," Nori said with a smirk.

Both of his brothers sent Nori glares, probably for two different reasons.

"But was it wise for you to come?" Bilbo asked Nori. "With someone trying to eliminate the Royal line, wouldn't you be more needed in Erebor?"

Nori waved a hand dismissively.

"I have an entire web of spies in place," he said. "Besides, both Dís and Frerin can handle themselves. It's these two Princelings who need babysitting."

Both Princes bristled and started protesting. Bilbo tried to look supportive, but he rather agreed with Nori. These two were a menace, probably surviving only on sheer luck.

"So that's everyone explained, Master Baggins," Bofur said and treated him to his wide grin. "See? Easy."

Bilbo smiled back, but he still thought that the whole thing made very little sense and was possibly quite dangerous too. He had a feeling that continuing the conversation would lead to even more confusion though, so he let it go.

"I'll bring some apple tarts," he said.

"But we ate all of them!" Kíli protested, his large eyes fixed on Bilbo.

"Not all of them,” Bilbo said with a satisfied smile. “I rescued a few from your sticky fingers.”

The Princes let out identical betrayed gasps while the other dwarves just laughed. Bilbo rolled his eyes and stood up.

“But we looked _everywhere_!” Kíli protested pitifully.

Bilbo only smirked and went to retrieve the remaining apple tarts from his bedroom. It was possibly the only room in Bag End that the boys hadn’t yet explored to their hearts’ content so of course Bilbo was going to use that fact to his advantage. Even if it meant hiding sweets from the Princes. For their own good, of course.

His reappearance in the dining room was met with a new round of cheers.

“Did I miss anything?” he asked, going back to his place while the dwarves descended on the tarts. Fíli and Kíli still acted as if he betrayed their trust by sharing the sweets, but it didn’t stop them from indulging themselves. “I hope you didn’t discuss anything important when I was gone,” he added and looked at the dwarves sternly.

“Nope,” Kíli said around a mouthful of apple tart.

“Balin was just telling us about the message he received from Amad when they reached Bree,” Fíli said and attacked his own tart in only slightly more acceptable manner than his brother.

“Yes,” Balin said absently. He was glaring at Dwalin who had grabbed all the tarts around him and was now guarding them jealously. “Lady Dís asked us to bring her a couple of carving knives from Ered Luin.”

He made a quick move for the tarts and actually managed to steal a piece out of the protective circle of Dwalin’s arms. Dwalin sent his brother a murderous look and tightened his grip around the tarts. Bilbo looked at them with a frown and wondered if there had ever been a war over sweets between Dwarven kingdoms. He wouldn’t be surprised.

“But you didn’t go to the Blue Mountains!” he said.

“Well, the message is in code, of course,” Nori said. He was also eyeing Dwalin’s hoard of apple tarts and very obviously plotting how to steal it. Dwalin’s warning glare promised unpleasant things if he so much as tried, but Nori didn’t seem intimidated. “She’s asking us to bring her foolish sons back to Erebor.”

“Hey!” Kíli protested _again_.

“She also let us know that things are running smoothly in Erebor, for the time being,” Balin added. “Even without the King and his heirs.”

He looked pointedly at the Princes, who pretended to ignore him.

“So no one has managed to wake the King yet?” Bilbo asked, hoping to be contradicted.

“They certainly tried, poor sods!” Bofur said. Fíli cleared his throat and glared at Bofur, who didn’t seem to realize that something was amiss. “The last one to try got out after a week all in blisters.”

“What?!” Bilbo squeaked and looked at the boys with wide eyes.

“Aye! And he was a lucky one too,” Bofur continued cheerfully, oblivious to the glares the Princes were sending him, and Bilbo’s own panic. “We had to gather parts of one of the Men before we could return his body to his family.”

Bilbo whimpered at that and took a deep breath. Kíli coughed violently and Fíli kicked Bofur under the table.

“But I thought...” Bilbo said and swallowed. “I thought the garden didn’t allow anyone in!”

“Oh, that it does!” Bofur said, clearly oblivious to the Princes’ efforts to stop him from talking. “It doesn’t always let you _out_.”

“Bofur!” Kíli said and stood up so abruptly that he overturned his chair. “I need your help with... the thing.”

“The thing?”

“Yes. The thing!” Kíli straightened to his full height and affected an imperious look, though with much less success than his brother. “Also I am a Prince of Erebor and you shall obey me!” he said.

Bofur did not look intimidated in the slightest. His brows went up and almost disappeared under his ridiculous hat and his moustache twitched.

“All right, Your Royal Highness,” he said lightly and followed Kíli out of the smial, whistling a cheerful tune.

It gave Bilbo just enough time to recover and turn to Fíli with an accusing glare. The Prince sent him a smile that looked more like a wince.

“So,” Bilbo said nonchalantly. “You lied to me.”

“We might have... slightly distorted the truth. Maybe. Possibly,” Fíli said looking at him with wide eyes that were much more effective on his brother. When Bilbo wasn’t angry at them. "Although technically the garden really hasn't let anyone into the place where Uncle is resting."

"Right," Bilbo said, crossed his arms and glowered. "It simply mutilated them!"

Fíli grimaced at that and only shrugged helplessly.

“Well, not _all_ of them,” Nori said.

Bilbo looked at him with narrowed eyes. He would have said something, but that was the moment Kíli and Bofur decided to return. Bofur looked sheepish and played with his pigtails the whole way to his place at the table while Kíli plopped down next to Bilbo with a frown that looked out of place on his usually cheerful face.

"How did your thing go?" Bilbo asked.

Kíli cleared his throat.

“I think we managed quite well,” he said. “Bofur was very... understanding.”

There was a snort that sounded suspiciously like it came from Nori and a muffled yelp closer to where Bofur was sitting. Bilbo frowned at the lot of them.

And then he remembered that he wasn't actually going with them, so it was not his problem.

"If you're all quite done," he started, standing up, "I will wash the dishes."

Immediately, Fíli and Kíli jumped to their feet and took one of his arms each.

"Don't trouble yourself, Bilbo," Fíli said, dragging the hobbit towards the parlour and ignoring Bilbo’s attempts to free his arms.

“We’ll take care of it for you,” Kíli added cheerfully, equally happy to ignore Bilbo’s fidgeting.

“You just sit and relax.”

"But—" Bilbo tried protesting, more than aware of how the dwarves treated his pottery.

The boys simply talked over him and pushed him into his armchair.

"We have it completely under control!" Fíli said and Kíli kept Bilbo in place for a moment until he finally gave in with a sigh.

"If even one of these plates breaks..." he warned.

"Yeah, yeah, compost crates!" Kíli said nonchalantly from where he and his brother were almost out the door.

Bilbo watched them go with narrowed eyes.

"You wish," he muttered darkly.

He slumped in his armchair and grumbled about bothersome dwarves and unmannered Royalty. Then Ori stumbled into the room as if someone had pushed him in. He was holding a cup of tea and his efforts to prevent the tea from spilling were rather impressive.

He might have spilled a drop or two, but it was nowhere near the nice rug, so Bilbo let it slide.

"Excuse me," the young dwarf said. "I was told to deliver this tea to you, Master Baggins."

He extended the cup towards Bilbo who received it with gratitude. Maybe there was still hope for those two troublesome Princelings after all.

"Thank you, Ori," Bilbo said and took a sip of the tea. It was perfectly brewed, so the boys had definitely asked for help. They had no idea how to brew drinkable tea. "And it's Bilbo."

Ori shifted from foot to foot and played with his mittens.

"All right," he said, like he was actually convinced it wasn't right at all.

"Please, sit," Bilbo said and directed him to the couch. Ori eyed it suspiciously, but complied. He was still playing with his mittens. Bilbo was just about to ask him if he'd made them himself when there was a loud bang in the kitchen followed by multiple cheers. Bilbo looked to the entrance, alarmed.

"It's probably nothing," Ori said.

Bilbo made a noncommittal sound and debated going to investigate when Óin appeared in the parlour.

"I have been banished!" he exclaimed and shook his ear trumpet in front of him. It was dripping wet.

Still not on the rug though.

Bilbo sighed and directed him to the couch. Ori made space for him on his right.

"Does this thing really work?" Bilbo asked, pointing at the trumpet.

"Aye!" Óin said loudly enough to consider it a yell. It made Bilbo jump slightly in his seat and then wince at the tea that had spilled over his hand. "It works wonders, it does! So helpful when your brother talks and you don't want to listen."

Bilbo blinked at the dwarf and then burst out laughing.

"You, Master Óin, are a devious creature!" he said.

Óin shrugged.

"I love my nephew dearly, but there's only so many times I can hear about another amazing thing he did," he said and winked at Bilbo. "I prefer not to hear about my sister-in-law at all!"

For some unfathomable reason, this made Ori choke on his own saliva and cough violently. Óin clapped him on the back while Ori's ears grew more and more red.

"What—" Bilbo started with a confused frown on his face.

"There you are!" Glóin announced appearing in the doorway. "Master Baggins, have I told you about one of my lovely wife's biggest talents?"

Ori whined pitifully while Óin very pointedly started to shake water out of his trumpet. Bilbo frowned at them in confusion.

"No," he said cautiously. "I don't believe you have."

Glóin beamed at him and started a tale about his wife's prowess at lovemaking, which made Bilbo wish he had his own trumpet. He could feel himself flush until the very tips of his ears and it had nothing to do with the tea.

Glóin was just in the middle of an entirely too graphic description when an agitated Bifur appeared in the parlour and started talking over him in Khuzdul.

"Oh, thank Mahal!" Ori whimpered. Bilbo was positively sure he wasn't referring to whatever Bifur was saying.

"Seems like everyone's getting sent away from the kitchen," Óin muttered.

"What? Why?" Bilbo asked at once. "What are they doing to my kitchen?"

He made a move to get up, but Bifur's wild gesticulation stopped him.

"He says you should untwist your beard, but as you have none, I suggest you stop whining," Óin told him cheerfully. Bilbo glowered. "Your kitchen is fine, lad. Why do you think those two good for nothing Princes made us leave?"

"To enact whatever mischief they came up with this time?" Bilbo suggested and crossed his arms.

Óin gave him a look just as Nori came in, frowning.

"What have you done to our Princes?" he asked Bilbo. "They used to be more fun."

"Why have they kicked you out?" Óin asked with another pointed look in Bilbo's direction.

Nori shrugged.

“Nothing really,” he said. “Wanted to juggle some knives and they pitched a fit.”

He threw himself on the couch between Ori and Óin, nearly climbing onto his little brother's lap. Ori glared at him and shoved him away.

Which was around the time when Bilbo took in a huge gasp of air and started breathing again. Juggling knives. In his kitchen. Possibly his own knives. That was just... not acceptable at all!

"You do not juggle knives in my kitchen!" he said.

"Not at the moment," Nori said cheekily and Bilbo bristled. It seemed that this dwarf was even more of a nuisance than the rest of them.

"Not ever," Bilbo said with narrowed eyes.

Nori didn't even try to hide his amused little smirk.

"Don't you worry your little head about it!" he said, making Bilbo purse his lips. "Those two would have my hide if I did, the little tyrants!"

Bilbo frowned. He was dangerously close to abandoning his Baggins propriety and giving the lot of them a scolding worthy of Belladonna Took when the rest of the dwarves trickled into the parlour. The noise levels in the room immediately rose with the sounds of their animated conversations. Bilbo got distracted by the sight of Bombur carrying an entire block of cheese with him and hadn't noticed Fíli and Kíli approaching him until the boys were already at his side.

They greeted him with matching grins.

"All the plates are in one piece," Kíli said.

"And other things too!" Fíli added. "We made sure that everything was in order."

Bilbo smiled at their enthusiasm, despite himself.

"Yes, I heard you were quite serious about protecting my kitchen," he said.

"Of course, Bilbo!" Fíli said. "You have been very good to us. It's the least we could do in return."

"We wanted to help a little before going," Kíli added with a nod.

"Going?" Bilbo asked, looking between the lads. Something in his stomach clenched unpleasantly. "Going where?"

"Back to Erebor, of course," Kíli said cheerfully, oblivious to Bilbo's growing unease.

Fíli seemed to catch on though. He frowned a little and gently squeezed Bilbo's arm.

"We're not going yet," he said and Bilbo felt the knot in his stomach loosen somewhat. "We'll need a couple of days still to make the necessary preparations, gather supplies and the like."

"Don't worry though!" Kíli chimed in. "We won't abuse your hospitality any longer."

Bilbo blinked at him, and when that didn't provide him with any answers, he turned to blink at his brother. Fíli's mouth pursed and he looked down at Bilbo's clenched fist.

"You are not abusing my hospitality," Bilbo squeaked. "I willingly invited you into my home!"

"Bilbo..." Fíli started while Kíli looked between the two, uncomprehending. "We need to stay with the rest of the dwarves. They were right; coming to the Shire on our own was foolish."

"But you are safe here!" Bilbo protested, trying not to panic. Why was he panicking? "In fact, you can all stay until you go back to your mountain."

"But there's not enough room for everyone," Kíli said with a frown.

"We'll be staying at The Green Dragon," Fíli said. "That's not far at all. I'm sure you'll have enough of us before we go."

Bilbo swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat. He was not getting emotional over these two walking disasters leaving his smial. He was _not_.

"And we'll get the ponies to the stables!" Kíli said, which made Bilbo snort.

"Oh yes, the poor ponies!" he said, shaking his head. "Have you picked names for them yet?"

Kíli took a breath to respond, but his brother cut him off.

"No," he said sharply and glared at Kíli, who sniffed and crossed his arms. "Not yet."

Bilbo smiled, a little weakly, but none of his boys mentioned it.

"Your Majesty?" Balin said gently from behind Fíli. The Prince turned around and Bilbo heard Kíli mutter that he was a Majesty too. "We should be leaving soon."

"Right," Fíli said and cleared his throat. "Just a moment."

Balin inclined his head and went to join his brother.

"I don't know why he insists on titles," Fíli murmured. "He's basically in line for the throne himself."

Kíli shrugged.

"He's just being fancy in front of Bilbo," he said. "You know he'll twist our ears as soon as we're at The Green Dragon."

Fíli groaned and looked pitifully at Bilbo.

"Better get it over with."

"Right," Bilbo said, feeling a little numb. "Right, of course."

He dragged himself out of his armchair and followed the dwarves to the door as if in a trance. He allowed the boys to hug him and even cracked a smile when they argued about pony names.

The door closed behind them and Bilbo's ears rang with the sudden silence.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while. Sorry! Life's been hectic for me these past few months and left me with very little time and energy to write. I think the worst is behind me now though. (Aaand I probably jinxed it. Let's hope not!)
> 
> Thank you [iwouldratherbeelsewhere](http://iwouldratherbeelsewhere.tumblr.com) for your help with this monster! I appreciate it a lot!

 

Bilbo glared at the bowl of scrambled eggs in front of him and viciously stabbed a piece of tomato with his fork. His glare did not make the eggs disappear.

Bilbo huffed. His day was only getting better and better. He had tossed and turned in the night, unable to sleep without the soft snores coming from the room next to his. The sudden silence was... disconcerting. As a result, he had woken up later than usual, just in time for elevenses. Which he made too much food for. Because apparently just a few days of company had been enough to alter his well-cultivated solitary habits.

Well then. He would just have to save the eggs for when the boys visited him, like they promised. And the meat pies. And the blasted _cupcakes_!

Sweet Yavanna, just how much food did he make?

Bilbo stabbed the tomato again, and then again, until it turned into an unappetizing mush. He pushed his plate away in disgust and stood up from the table.

Right then. Time to work on his garden.

As soon as Bilbo's hands touched the ground, some of the tension he'd been feeling left him. He sighed and dug his hands deeper into the soil, revelling in the familiarity of it, the—

"Bilbo Baggins!"

Bilbo snatched his hands out of the ground, as if caught doing something highly improper, and looked around frantically. If he hadn't been seen yet, maybe he could—

"I know you're in there, Cousin!" Lobelia shrieked and Bilbo's shoulders slumped in defeat before he squared them and stood up to face his delightful relative.

"Well, I am not hiding, am I?" Bilbo said and crossed his arms.

Lobelia grimaced at him from where she stood by the gateway. It made her face look even more sour than usual.

“Maybe not from me,” she said, though she sounded dubious, “but I noticed you finally got rid of those bothersome dwarves! Are you worried they might come back?”

"I see you're just as perceptive as ever," Bilbo said and forced a smile. "But you know they were my guests, right? They didn't hold me captive in my own home!"

Lobelia shrugged.

"Some guests can be unwanted," she said.

Bilbo raised an eyebrow at her.

"Indeed."

Lobelia pursed her lips, but didn’t say anything. She walked into that one all on her own. Bilbo hummed and wiped his hands on his work trousers, just to see his cousin wrinkle her nose at him.

“Oh! But where are my manners?" he exclaimed, his eyes going wide. "Would you care for some early lunch, dear Cousin? I have freshly baked meat pies and I know how much you like them!"

She absolutely _loathed_ meat pies, as Bilbo well knew. But she never refused them, out of some misguided rule she invented for herself, and Bilbo feigned ignorance. Lobelia's visits were a lot shorter whenever she had to pretend she liked his meat pies, and it was reason enough for Bilbo to have some on hand as often as possible.

Now he looked expectantly at his cousin who hesitated, obviously torn between wanting to avoid food she hated and her need to poke at Bilbo's life with her dreadful umbrella. Her nosiness finally won over and she followed Bilbo into Bag End, sharing with him things she’d learned about Dwarves from some obviously unreliable sources.

“They’re basically savages,” she said, dragging mud all over his nice rug. “With those beards and... hair! I would be afraid something might jump out of it!”

Bilbo hummed noncommittally and tried not to look at Lobelia’s tasteless hat that looked just like it might house a rabbit or two. He simply put a meat pie in front of her.

"They're a bit unruly, that's true," he admitted. “But it’s not like they stole any of the precious family heirlooms, or anything equally distasteful.”

Lobelia pursed her lips and tightened her grip on the fork, which was _not_ a precious family heirloom. Just in case she decided that she liked it too much. She stabbed her meat pie and then practically swallowed a large bite of it, as if hoping to make it disappear by actually inhaling it.

"Maybe they didn't think it was worth the effort," she said, a little breathless. "Your mother brought all these things with her from her... _adventures_ ," she spat the word and grimaced.

Bilbo pursed his lips and immediately covered them with his tea cup. His mother might have been an adventurous hobbit, but it didn't mean she was also a fraud. And it never seemed to bother Lobelia when she tried to take any of those things with her.

"Or maybe they know that you shouldn't repay a person's hospitality by stealing their things," he said, a bit more sharply than he'd intended.

Lobelia huffed and swung her fork around, sending pieces of meat all over his dining room floor. Bilbo's nose twitched and he sniffed. Before he could enact his plan to throw his own meat pie at Lobelia's smirking face, the front door opened with a bang, startling them both from the sudden tense silence.

"Prepare yourself, Master Boggins!" Kíli's cheerful voice made Bilbo smile despite himself. "We've arrived!"

"You let those creatures come in whenever they please?" Lobelia hissed at him.

“Well, it seems like everyone is coming in as they please anyway,” Bilbo answered with a shrug and a pointed look at her.

Lobelia let out an offended gasp, but Bilbo ignored her and turned towards the entrance.

"In here, Kíli!" he called and, not a moment later, the grinning Prince marched into the dining room.

"I thought we'd find you in the garden!" Kíli said and ruffled Bilbo's hair, which made Bilbo roll his eyes. "I even sent Ori to check."

"Well, I _was_ working in the garden," Bilbo said. "But then I got company."

Kíli frowned for a moment before finally noticing Lobelia on the other side of the table. Her face had gone so sour by then that her lips formed a perfect upside down horse shoe.

"Oh, hello, Mistress!" Kíli called, though his smile turned a bit strained. He flung himself onto a chair and grabbed the nearest meat pie.

Lobelia glared at the dwarf with all her might, but it didn't seem to impress Kíli at all. Then again, he probably hadn't even noticed the glare, focused on the pie as he was.

"Is your brother with you?" Bilbo asked, not entirely able to cover his amusement.

"Nah, he's being all... princely," Kíli said and waved a dismissive hand. "We both were, but then I got bored."

Bilbo rolled his eyes at that.

"And they let you go just like that, didn't they?" he asked drily, his eyebrow raised.

Lobelia cleared her throat pointedly.

They both ignored her.

"I took Ori with me," Kíli said and stuffed his mouth with more pie.

"And where is Ori, exactly?"

Bilbo had a very bad feeling about this.

"In the garden, probably." Kíli shrugged. "I told you I sent him there."

Ah, yes, there it was.

"But I thought... I thought you would call him back when— never mind, I don’t know why I thought that.” Bilbo sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Then he glared at Kíli when the Prince didn’t move at all to remedy the situation.

He did move quite a lot trying to eat as many meat pies as possible before Lobelia had a go at them. Which might actually be the very thing that could make her eat them.

“Kíli,” Bilbo said pointedly.

“Yesh, ‘bo?” Kíli asked around what seemed like the _entire_ meat pie. Lobelia looked at the dwarf with obvious distaste, while jealously guarding her own pie.

When no answer came from Bilbo, Kíli finally looked at him.

“Go find Ori and bring him here!”

Kíli swallowed and waved his hand.

“Nah, he’s a smart dwarf. He can find his way!”

He was about to reach for yet _another_ meat pie, when Bilbo stomped his foot right onto Kíli’s boot.

“Ow!” Kíli snatched his foot out of Bilbo’s reach and looked at him with a hurt expression. “Do you have anvils hidden in there?” Bilbo rolled his eyes and just hovered his foot close to Kíli’s again. “All right, I’m going! I’m going!” He turned to Lobelia and straightened to his full height. He didn’t look quite as majestic as his brother, though that might be because he still had a mouth full of meat pies. “Don’t steal any spoons while I’m gone!” he said and marched away.

Lobelia sputtered and glared at Bilbo, who tried very hard not to laugh. She opened her mouth a couple of times, but the only thing that left it was more indignant huffs. Kíli might have actually succeeded in the impossible task of rendering Lobelia Sackville-Baggins speechless.

Not for long, of course.

"Oh, the _nerve_!" she cried, her voice drilling unpleasantly into Bilbo’s head. "I have never in my life been this insulted! That little brat! Who does he think he is?"

"A Prince of Erebor, actually," Bilbo said, his lips quivering with the need to smile.

Lobelia blinked at him and then huffed.

"And what is that? A tavern?"

Bilbo snorted despite himself and started giggling uncontrollably.

"I knew it!" Lobelia shrieked and got up from the table. "What did I tell you? They're all barbarians with no manners! Look how they've corrupted you already!"

She glared at him, adjusted her hat and walked out of his smial, almost bumping into a wide-eyed Ori.

"Well," Kíli said with a frown. "I really hope she didn't have any meat pies under that hat."

Bilbo only laughed harder.

 

* * *

 

Bilbo stood in front of his mother's glory box with folded arms and a frown on his face. He reached for the lid but changed his mind and retreated with a sigh. He glared at it and stomped away, but just as soon returned to sulkily stand in front of it.

He was clearly losing his mind.

He hadn't opened the heavy wooden chest since his mother's death, when he'd packed all the things she'd brought home from her adventures and left them behind, along with his own silly dreams about seeing the world. It had been time to grow up and be respectable. Do well for the Baggins name.

He'd sometimes felt the pull of the box, but had always been able to bury it under a pile of responsibilities a respectable Baggins should see to.

It took two wayward Dwarven Princes and the odd group that had come to bring them home to make the pull stronger than ever.

“This is not good,” Bilbo muttered before letting out a deep sigh and opening the box.

“This is really bad,” he grumbled some time later, surrounded by precious stones from Ered Luin, Hobbit-sized robes from Rivendell and dozens of other trinkets Bilbo couldn’t tell the origin of.

“This is not good at all!”

 

* * *

 

The short walk from Hobbiton to Bywater had never seemed so long to Bilbo. He could see The Green Dragon Inn just beyond the corner, but it was still not close enough.

Surrounded by the chaos of his mother's belongings, Bilbo had felt that familiar tingling underneath his skin that had made him search the Bindbole Wood for Elves when he was just a fauntling. Bag End had suddenly felt too small where it had felt too large not a day before, and Bilbo had to get out of it. He'd decided that seeing how ridiculous the dwarves really were would put an end to any dangerous thoughts about adventures, and set up for The Green Dragon Inn.

And if there was a tiny voice in his head insisting that it wasn't at all his true reason, he stubbornly ignored it.

He was a few paces away from the inn when he heard the unmistakable scolding voice of Petunia Proudfoot. Bilbo had been on the receiving end of it more than once as a faunt, and he had a pretty good idea of who might have earned her ire now. He entered the inn with a sigh that quickly turned into a snort.

It was indeed Fíli and Kíli on the other end of Petunia's tongue-lashing, and they were a sight to behold. Bilbo leaned on the wall with an amused smile and watched as the two Princes tried their best to look small and repentant while lectured by a hobbit almost half their size.

He didn’t really listen to what Petunia had to say, just enjoyed watching her rant at someone who wasn’t him. But then she started poking the boys with her finger and Bilbo’s smile dropped immediately.

This was apparently serious business.

"... poison innocent fauntlings!" Petunia's words finally reached him.

"Poison?" Bilbo muttered to himself with a frown. The boys might be foolish, but they wouldn't actually _poison_ anyone. Especially after what had happened to their uncle.

"We didn't mean to!" Kíli whined, his eyes going impossibly wide.

"We really didn't!" Fíli added, trying for a placating tone. "It just looked so nice and green!"

"And little Rosie was crying."

"And we wanted to cheer her up."

"And we saw it in Master Baggins' garden."

"Now, hang on" Bilbo protested and stepped closer. "I do _not_ grow poison in my garden!"

Well, that was a mistake. He really shouldn't have let the boys know that he was there. They immediately turned to him with identical pleading expressions.

"Bilbo!" they exclaimed and ran to hide behind him.

"Bilbo Baggins!" And now Petunia directed her scolding voice at him. Perfect.

Bilbo winced internally and glared at the boys over his shoulder. They shuffled their feet nervously, but didn't, Bilbo noted, get out from behind him.

"Yes, Mistress Proudfoot?" he said politely.

"Don't you Mistress me, lad!" she said and now the finger was poking _him_ in the chest. "Are these two rascals your responsibility?"

"Rascals!" Kíli protested, but Fíli elbowed him in the side to silence him.

Bilbo pinched the bridge of his nose.

"What did they do?" he asked with a tired sigh.

"They tried to give poison ivy to little Rosamunda Took, is what they did!" Petunia said and Bilbo immediately turned to give the boys a disapproving look.

"She didn't even take it!" Kíli hurried to reassure, but then shuffled his feet awkwardly when Bilbo crossed his arms.

"Of course she didn't take it!" Petunia said and her finger was back to pointing at the Princes. "She's a _hobbit_ , she knows her plants!" She crossed her arms and turned to scowl at Bilbo. "What's this about growing poison ivy in your garden, Bilbo?"

Bilbo sighed and shook his head.

"I promise I'm not doing that. These two," he said and turned to glare at the dwarves again, "just can't tell poison ivy apart from berry twigs!"

Petunia put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at all three of them.

"See to it that they don't poison any more children," she said and walked away.

"But we didn't _actually_ poison—" Kíli started protesting, but stopped when his brother kicked him in the shin.

Bilbo let out a long breath and let his shoulders drop.

"Where's the rest of your company?" he asked, turning to face the boys.

"Um..." Kíli started and Bilbo instantly narrowed his eyes at him.

"They might have... gotten lost at the market," Fíli said with the most innocent expression that didn't fool Bilbo one bit.

"Entirely on their own," Kíli added helpfully. Fíli's moustache twitched. "Like one does."

"You have so many stalls it's not surprising."

"And we have an advantage because we've been here longer."

"And we're not Uncle."

"And then that hobbit lady appeared."

"And we couldn't go find them."

"And—"

"All right!" Bilbo interrupted them while he still could. They turned into a two-headed talking monster if they were allowed to. "Let's just... let's just find somewhere to sit and I'll have a look at your hands."

The boys looked at each other and, like the fools they were, hid their hands behind their backs.

"Hands?" Kíli asked and blinked innocently at Bilbo.

"You've seen our hands before, Bilbo."

"They're really nothing special to see. I mean, mine are obviously prettier than Fíli's, but—"

"Fine then!" Bilbo said, grabbed each of them by the ear and dragged them to the nearest table.

"Ow, ow, ow, _ow_!" Kíli complained. "Bilbo, let go!"

Bilbo twisted their ears for good measure.

"I notice you're not trying to push me back," he said. "With your _hands_."

"There's nothing wrong with our hands!" Kíli said and waved his hands in front of Bilbo too fast for him to notice anything at all. "See?"

Bilbo let go of their ears and crossed his arms.

"I know how poison ivy works," he said. "I don't imagine you used anything as silly as _gloves_ to pick it so you should definitely show me your hands and let me treat them." He shrugged. "Unless you want to lose them, which is just fine with me."

The boys looked at each other and, after a moment of silent conversation, let out identical sighs and showed Bilbo their hands.

Their red, swollen hands.

Bilbo gave them a _look_.

"I suppose you were just going to ignore it until it went away?"

The boys fidgeted.

"Maybe," Fíli said, though it sounded more like a question than anything else.

Bilbo shook his head at them and sighed.

"You would have just given yourselves a nasty rash!" he said. “Go and wash your hands with lots of water and soap or you might still get one!"

The boys, infuriating creatures that they were, did not move an inch.

Fíli tilted his head and frowned at Bilbo.

"You're not going to scold us?" he asked.

Bilbo pursed his lips.

"No," he said. "What I'm going to do is treat your hands and then wait for someone else to scold you. I have a feeling that Balin might be pretty good at it. For some reason..."

The boys swallowed loudly but, as Bilbo noticed with growing exasperation, they still didn’t go to wash their hands.

Well then. Perhaps a little subterfuge was in order.

“Did you hear it?” Bilbo asked, pretending to listen to some distant sound. “I think that was Dwalin...”

“Water!” Kíli exclaimed and ran down the corridor, his brother close behind him.

Bilbo just shook his head at them with a fond smile. He was going to miss these two troublemakers.

He dragged himself to the bar and asked Wilcome there for a mortar before going outside to pick some plantain leaves. Then he went back to the table and started mashing the leaves into a pulp.

The first sign that the boys might be back was their shushing each other in an attempt to be stealthy. Then it was Kíli's head poking around the corner.

"Where's Mister Dwalin?" Kíli asked, casting furtive glances all around the inn.

"Oh, I... I must have heard something wrong," Bilbo said. Fíli sent him a look that said he wasn't fooled by that. "Did you wash your hands?"

"We did," Kíli said and waved his hands around for good measure. They were still red, but smelt faintly of soap, so Bilbo was inclined to believe him.

"Sit down and let's have a proper look at them," he said.

"But... we've already washed them!" Kíli protested.

Before Bilbo had the chance to glare, like he wanted to, Fíli pushed his brother down onto a chair and sat down himself. He did the pushing with his hands, of course, and Bilbo narrowed his eyes at him for that.

"Right," Bilbo said. "Hands out."

They miraculously complied and Bilbo busied himself with applying the plantain poultice until the door to the inn opened with a bang to reveal a scowling Dwalin. Wilcome looked at the dwarf with disapproval that went completely unnoticed.

Dwalin directed his glare at the boys, then turned and called out to the rest, "Found the brats!"

"Hey!" Kíli protested. "We're the Princes here. We can send you to the dungeons."

Dwalin only smirked.

"I'd like to see that," he said.

He approached the table they were sitting at, leaving the door open for the rest of the dwarves.

"This is not a stable, Master Dwarf!" Wilcome protested. He only received a glare for his troubles.

"You pull a stunt like this again and I'm telling Dís about The Hammer Incident," he said and sat down. The chair creaked in protest.

The lads sputtered and looked at Dwalin with matching horrified expressions.

"You wouldn't!" Fíli said.

Dwalin only raised an eyebrow at him.

It was in this moment that the rest of the dwarves burst through the door in a flurry of motion and noise, and Bilbo was about ready to shove them back out. It would seem that Dwarven timing was positively atrocious. The Princes' attention had already shifted from Dwalin to the rest of the company and Bilbo resigned himself to never hearing the details of this particular story.

The dwarves surrounded them and started talking all at once, scolding and  throwing disapproving looks at their Princes. Only Balin stayed quiet, his arms folded and a distant expression on his face.

"He's disappointed, Fee!" Kíli whispered petulantly to his brother. He was probably aiming for discreet, but that whisper could be heard back at Bag End. "He should be angry, not disappointed!"

"I know, Kee," Fíli said. He sounded miserable about it too.

Balin sighed wearily and massaged his temples.

"We are leaving tomorrow at first light," he said and every dwarf around the table fell silent.

It was Bilbo who found himself protesting.

"What? But... but you said you'd stay a few days still!" he exclaimed. He involuntarily tightened the grip on Fíli's hand and only let go when the Prince yelped in pain.

Balin looked at him kindly, apology in his eyes.

"While we were looking for the Princes," he said and sent the boys a pointed look that made them squirm in their seats, "a raven came bearing news from Erebor."

"Is Mother all right?" Fíli asked with a worried frown.

"Dís is fine," Glóin answered. "It's Frerin you should be concerned about."

"Uncle? What happened?" Kíli asked, his eyes wide.

Balin sighed. He looked weary all of the sudden.

"Prince Regent has fallen ill," he said.

"Ill?" Bilbo repeated, a dark suspicion forming in his mind.

"Poisoned," Nori muttered.

A heavy silence fell over their company, broken after a while by Fíli's soft murmur.

"Is he okay?" he asked.

Balin pursed his lips.

"He'll live," he said. "The poison was detected fast and it wasn't enchanted like Thorin’s."

"The mountain's in an uproar" Nori said, gloomy. "No one dares question Dís' right to rule, but people talk." He looked at the Princes. "Some mention the Shire."

Bilbo inhaled loudly, his stomach dropping. He'd known the dwarves' plan wasn't good enough. He'd just _known_!

He chanced a glance at the boys. Fíli's jaw was clenched, his eyes hard. Kíli just looked lost.

Bilbo pursed his lips.

"Do you think it's a trap?" he asked.

"Of course it's a trap!" Nori snapped.

"Nori!" Dori hissed at him.

"No, he's right," Fíli said. "If they know about the Shire, they're probably trying to lure us back into the mountain."

"Then you mustn’t leave!" Bilbo said. "You will be safe here!"

"Bilbo, we have to go" Fíli said gently.

"But..."

"We can't leave Mother alone with this." Kíli said.

Bilbo wanted to protest, he really did. He opened his mouth to argue, but in the end he only let out a deep sigh. Then he looked at the boys and squared his shoulders.

"Don't drink anything suspicious," he said firmly. "Don't eat anything that tastes funny. And don't touch any flowers."

"Flowers?!" Kíli protested. "But Bilbo!"

Bilbo raised a finger to shush him.

"Before you say more, look at your hands." he said. "Then you can have an opinion."

Kíli looked down at his still angrily red hands and winced. He wisely stopped himself from saying anything else on the topic.

"We promise we'll be careful, Bilbo," Fíli said.

Bilbo nodded tersely. He didn’t like it, but it had to be enough.

 

* * *

 

When Bilbo got back home it was already dark outside. He'd spent the entire afternoon listening to the dwarves making plans and helping them get provisions. He could see that most of them still did not trust him despite, or perhaps because of, his familiarity with their Princes. He didn't blame them. With constant threats to Erebor's throne, they had the right to be suspicious of everyone, especially of outsiders with plant knowledge. As long as it kept the boys safe, Bilbo was determined not to hold a grudge.

After all, they were leaving in the morning. And wasn't that a depressing thought?

Bilbo leaned back on his closed front door and sighed. He'd really thought he'd get to see the boys at least a couple times more before they left. Ask Bombur about some nice recipes, perhaps. Show Ori his small library. Maybe get Balin to tell him some stories about the boys.

And now... well.

Now he'd never get to do that, would he?

Bilbo swallowed around a lump in his throat, squared his shoulders and walked towards his parlour.

And promptly tripped over a watering can, clearly of Dwarven make, that his mother had brought from her travels.

He glared at it. The can glared back.

“Oh, bebother it all!” he said and went to pack.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are more... let's say... modern ways of dealing with poison ivy rash, of course, but I thought Bilbo asking Wilcome for Benadryl might be going a little bit too far. ;)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo... hi guys! Sorry it took so long. Again. Real life is exhausting right now.  
> I have the next chapter mostly drafted though, so it shouldn't take so long this time. I hope.;)  
> 

 

Bilbo yawned and rubbed at his eyes. It was a good thing that he knew the road from Tuckborough to Hobbiton so well, or he might have gotten lost a few times by now. Not because of his poor sense of direction, of course. He was _excellent_ at finding his way. He was in danger of falling asleep on his pony, however, and that might result in a very rude awakening somewhere unpleasant. And Bilbo absolutely refused to become the laughing stock of two good for nothing Princes! Especially since it was their fault in the first place.

He had spent the whole night preparing for the journey to Erebor while cursing himself for going along with this madcap plan. He had mumbled and grumbled, but still folded yet another shirt and waistcoat and put them in his mother's old travelling bag, right next to a sleeping roll, a warm coat, and a handkerchief.

After all, he wasn’t going to abandon _all_ reason and just chase after the dwarves with little more on him than his clothes. Leaving his house completely unprotected too! That would be highly improper!

Which was why he was now getting back from a... not entirely pleasant conversation with Fortinbras.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" the Thain had hissed at him after he'd recovered from the shock of seeing Bilbo at his door in the middle of the night.

"It's rather urgent, I'm afraid," Bilbo had told him, following Fortinbras to the parlour. "Official business."

"And it really couldn't have waited until morning?" Fortinbras had asked, impatiently gesturing for Bilbo to sit down.

"I'm leaving with the dwarves."

There. He had said it. No going back now...

Fortinbras had stared at him as if he had turned into a Dwarf himself.

"You _what_?"

What followed had been a lovely discussion about Hobbits and adventuring, and why those two didn't go together all that well. Bilbo knew all that, thank you very much, but he had made his decision.

After some pushing and prodding, and even pleading to reconsider, Fortinbras had finally thrown his arms in the air in frustration and started writing down Bilbo’s instructions.

No one was to enter Bag End, especially one Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, unless it was under the Thain’s supervision. The exception to this would be the Gamgees, who had agreed to care for his garden in Bilbo’s absence for a reasonable fee. And it was going to be Fortinbras who would manage Bilbo’s land and take care of his tenants.

"And if you don't come back?" Fortinbras had asked, putting away the stack of books and ledgers that Bilbo had given him.

Bilbo had swallowed and produced a folded piece of parchment on which he had written his will.

"If-if I don't come back in two years," he had started, then paused and cleared his throat. "Well. Everything's in here."

Fortinbras had taken the parchment from him with a heavy frown on his face, but had not commented on it before safely storing it away.

"I hope you know what you're doing," he had said, after all the important matters had been discussed.

Bilbo groaned. He very much hoped so too.

He shifted in the saddle, trying to make himself more comfortable. He winced when his calf cramped painfully. Hobbits didn’t usually travel on horseback, preferring to sit comfortably on a cart or simply walk. Bilbo was no exception and he was already dreading that long, _long_ trek to Erebor. If it was up to him, he would have walked all the way there on his own trusty feet. He had no illusions that the dwarves would actually wait for him though, or match his pace. So, after packing and arranging things with the Gamgees, he had gone to the stables and gotten himself a nice sturdy pony with a sensible name, Myrtle.

Now, with his travelling bag safely attached to the saddle, he was going back to the stables where he expected to meet the dwarves. He had recognized the Princes' ponies when he'd gone to choose his own, and he was pretty sure they wouldn't leave them behind.

All he had to do was stay awake and not miss it.

Bilbo yawned again and struggled to keep his eyes open. He shifted in the saddle again and accidentally pulled on the reins too much, which made Myrtle whinny in protest.

"Sorry, girl," he said and patted her apologetically on the neck. "I'm afraid I'm not very good at this business. We're almost there though, and I have some apples in the bag, especially for you."

They _were_ quite close to the stables at this point, and Bilbo let out a relieved sigh when he heard some of the ponies neighing in the distance. The building came into sight soon after that and Myrtle started galloping in its direction, following her instinct, while Bilbo just hang on for dear life.

When Myrtle finally stopped by the gate, Bilbo was badly shaken. He quickly pulled his legs from the stirrups and leaned forward on the pony’s neck.

"Oh, this is not good," he whined, trying not to be sick. He stretched his legs and took a deep breath...

"Bilbo!" he heard someone calling his name and then hurried footsteps running towards him.

So much for a quiet moment to calm his nerves.

"Boys," he started, looking up, and then he was being crushed by the combined force of two Dwarven Princes.

He most definitely did not squeak when they enveloped him — and Myrtle’s neck — in a fierce hug. He felt a new wave of nausea, but managed to suppress it.

"You're here!" Kíli exclaimed delightedly into his curls.

"Does this mean you're coming with us?" Fíli asked.

The lads loosened their grip on Bilbo to look at him expectantly. Bilbo could see the other dwarves preparing for the journey in the distance and sending them curious looks.

"I— yes," Bilbo said, swallowing. "I suppose I am," he added with a frown. He still couldn't quite believe it himself.

The boys grinned and this time actually pulled him out of the saddle.

"Oh no," was all Bilbo could manage before he was being thrown up in the air. He was already regretting his decision to join this madcap adventure. "Boys..." he tried, but they ignored him and just threw him up again. "Boys! Put me down! This instant!"

“You’re making poor Master Baggins sick!” someone scolded the Princes. Bilbo had just enough time to notice it was Dori before Kíli failed to catch him properly in his surprise and his right foot hit the ground. Hard.

Bilbo cried out in pain.

"Bilbo! Bilbo, can you hear me?" Kíli yelled at him and started shaking his arm.

Bilbo winced, then glared at the young dwarf, whose face was hovering strangely high above him. Oh. He must be lying on the ground then.

"Yes, Kíli, my ears are just fine," he said and crossed his arms. "Which cannot be said about my foot."

"I'm so sorry, Bilbo!" Kíli told him, rubbing the back of his neck.

"We both are," Fíli added, looking apologetic.

"Can you move your toes?"

"Can you move your neck?"

"Can you move at all?"

"I am _fine_ ," Bilbo muttered and sat up quickly to prove it. Both his stomach and foot protested that idea and Bilbo whimpered. "I'll just... rest here for a moment," he said and lay back down.

Bilbo closed his eyes and listened as the rest of the dwarves slowly surrounded him. He could feel their eyes on him, but they seemed determined to stand around in confused silence. Which was just fine by Bilbo, really fine. At least he could be miserable in peace.

"Did you break the hobbit?" someone asked with amusement and Bilbo would bet his father's favourite teapot that it was Nori.

"Not broken," he muttered and waved his hand around as if to prove it.

"You look pretty broken to me, Bilbo." And that was definitely Bofur's concerned voice.

"Oh for—" Bilbo said, exasperated. He opened his eyes and looked for the Princes. "Fíli, Kíli, help me up. And this time don't dro-okay." The lads hadn't even touched him and yet he was lifted and made to stand rather abruptly. He looked around to see Dwalin standing there with his arms crossed and an eyebrow lifted. "Right. Yes. Thank you," Bilbo said and then nearly tumbled down when he put his weight on his right leg and a shock of pain coursed through his body, all the way up to his curls. "Right," he whimpered.

"Bring the lad here!" Óin practically shouted in Bilbo's ear, making him flinch. "I'll see if you broke him or not."

"Not. Broken," Bilbo repeated, a touch defensive now, and crossed his arms before glaring at the dwarves. Then his bruised heel made him grunt in pain again. "But I might need a little assistance," he allowed.

Before he knew what was going on, he was lifted again, this time by Dori, and carefully deposited on a bale of hay. Yes, that was much better. Much—

Bilbo yelped when Óin lifted his foot to inspect it with little consideration for his well-being.

"Are you sure you're a healer?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"Yes, now be quiet while I determine if we should amputate," Óin said and tugged at his leg.

Bilbo spluttered indignantly.

"Amputate! Well, I never..." He trailed off when he saw Óin smirk and glared at the dwarf. "Your bedside manner needs some work," he muttered.

"Don't bother," Bofur said cheerfully. "He's an old grump."

"An old grump that will stitch you back when you're bleeding, don't forget that!" Óin muttered and sent Ori to bring a bucket of cold water and some cloth. The rest of the dwarves slowly trickled away to get back to their preparations, leaving Bilbo with Bofur, Óin, and the Princes.

Bofur swallowed audibly and leaned in to whisper in Bilbo's ear, "He'll do it with a blunt needle now!"

Bilbo's eyebrows shot up and he looked at his foot with a worried frown.

"Bofur, stop scaring the lad or I really _will_ use it on you!" Óin warned.

"I thought you couldn't hear things!" Bofur said and winked at Bilbo.

Óin glared at him.

"I can still see just fine."

Bofur shrugged and walked away, humming a song that Bilbo could swear involved a dead cat and a hammer.

"How is it?" he asked Óin, who was frowning at his foot.

"Too large and hairy for my taste, but other than that, there's nothing wrong with it," Óin said.

Bilbo let out an offended gasp and pulled his leg out of Óin's grip. He clenched his jaw around the sudden spike of pain and crossed his arms.

"I beg your pardon!" he said. "My feet are perfectly reasonable, thank you!"

Óin only lifted an eyebrow at him.

"If you say so."

"Is he going to live, Master Óin?" Kíli asked anxiously. Fíli scowled at him, but Bilbo could see that he was worried too.

"It's just a bruise, you dimwit," Óin muttered and sent the Prince an unimpressed look. "We just need some cold water to reduce it."

The boys let out identical sighs of relief and immediately came closer to Bilbo's side, and hovered around him like excited puppies.

"How do you feel, Bilbo?" Kíli asked.

"Are you in pain?" Fíli added.

"Do you want us to carry you?"

"You can ride with me on my pony until your foot gets better."

"Hey, no fair! Bilbo should ride with me! I'm the one who dropped him!"

"Is that supposed to be encouraging?"

They started arguing over Bilbo's head and Bilbo just rolled his eyes and ignored them. He _wasn't_ going to ride with either of the brothers, thank you very much! Travelling on a pony would be challenging enough and he wasn't going to make it even more so by actually riding with these two walking disasters. He'd rather take his chances with Myrtle.

"Here's your water, Master Baggins," Ori said, placing the bucket in front of Bilbo.

"Thank you, Ori," Bilbo said and let Óin wrap a cold compress around his foot. It helped soothe his aches a bit. "And I told you to drop the title." Ori shrugged with one arm and fiddled with his mittens. Bilbo pointed at them. "Did you make them yourself?" he asked.

Ori grinned and nodded, but before he could say anything, the Princes decided to stop arguing and join the conversation.

"Ori's the best!" Kíli said. "He makes us stuff all the time!"

"He once made a nice long scarf for our mother," Fíli added with a nod.

"Oh yes, I remember!" A now familiar mischievous light came into Kíli's eyes and Bilbo groaned. "It was perfect for swinging around the Royal Wing!"

Ori squeaked indignantly.

"That was a commission for Lady Dís!" he exclaimed. "She paid me for it and you used it as a swing?"

The Princes looked uneasy for a moment and shuffled their feet awkwardly. Óin didn’t even try to hide his smirk.

“Um... it was very... sturdy?” Kíli tried, but Ori had none of it.

“Dori!” he called and turned on his heel to look for his brother.

“It was really nice to meet you, Bilbo,” Kíli said, his eyes wide and terrified.

“A real honour,” Fíli added, looking nervously to where Ori was explaining something to Dori with ample gesticulation. “Please tell our mother we love her.”

And with that, they were gone.

"Wha— boys!" Bilbo called after them, but they had already jumped over the fence and disappeared from sight.

“Don’t bother!” Óin told him, amused. “They’re probably halfway to Mount Doom by now,” he said and left to take care of his pony.

Bilbo shook his head. If he didn't know the boys were Royalty, he would never have believed it. They acted like unruly fauntlings on the best of days.

"Are they gone?" Ori asked, coming back to Bilbo's side.

"Yes," Bilbo said and tried not to wince at the pain that shot through his leg when he moved it. "And they seem pretty convinced that Erebor will need new heirs now."

Ori crossed his arms and gave a curt nod.

"Good," he said, which made Bilbo raise his eyebrows at him in surprise. "Just let them think that for a moment. I worked really hard on that scarf. They think that if they're Princes, they can do whatever they please."

There was a stubborn set to Ori's young features and Bilbo looked at him with new appreciation.

"What about your brother? Is he really so scary? If I were you, I would probably choose Dwalin."

Ori giggled nervously.

"Oh no, I couldn't possibly bother Mister Dwalin with this," he said and started playing with his mittens again. "Besides, Dori is stronger."

"Really?"

"And he... um... he is very... loyal," Ori said, clearly searching for the right word.

"You mean 'overprotective'," Bilbo said and Ori just shrugged.

"Maybe," he admitted, then looked at Bilbo, a spark in his eye. "Anyway, I didn't tell him, so I think the Line of Durin is safe for now."

"You..." Bilbo started, then paused and blinked at the young dwarf. And then he remembered who his other brother was. "Oh, you clever thing!"

Ori smiled shyly at the praise and his cheeks turned slightly red. Then he cleared his throat and wrung his hands.

"Is it true that Hobbits grow on trees?" he asked and Bilbo laughed.

 

* * *

 

 

There was a very good reason why Hobbits didn't go on adventures, as Bilbo was slowly learning. They were a sorry business, is what they were, and they made a Hobbit ache in strange places. And long for their bed. And _starve_.

They were on the road for about an hour and Bilbo already had to fight the urge to turn his pony around— _No._ Dismount the dratted beast and run towards his lovely, comfortable smial.

Well. _Hobble_ , more likely.

He had insisted on riding his own pony, no matter how loudly the boys protested. Or how cunningly they tried to bribe him into riding with one of them. To Bilbo’s surprise, Ori had backed him up in an unexpected show of solidarity. And since the Princes had still been wary around the Ri brothers, they had soon relented.

So Bilbo had been carefully positioned on Myrtle, the dwarves mindful of his bruised foot. It was still sore and Bilbo had to change positions quite often because it liked to throb even with Óin's ointment massaged into his skin. But at least he didn't run the risk of overprotective Princes accidentally overbalancing him and sending him to his death under the hooves of several ponies.

After that, their journey to Erebor had officially begun. The dwarves were still eyeing him warily, some with concern and some with suspicion. Bilbo was almost convinced that Nori had been devising the best ways of killing him. He didn’t trust that throwing knife of his at all!

They almost managed to leave Hobbiton without incident, but, of course, Bilbo’s life was never so easy.

“Bilbo Baggins!” Lobelia shrieked, rudely disturbing the peace and quiet of the early morning. Bilbo winced. He had been really looking forward to not seeing her for a long while. “Where do you think you’re going with this band of brutes?”

She helpfully pointed at their company with her umbrella, eliciting offended gasps and angry words from the dwarves.

“With your shrewd mind, dear Lobelia,” Bilbo said, forcing a polite smile, “I’m confident you can figure it out on your own.”

Lobelia paused for a moment, as if contemplating if she had just been insulted, before settling on a scowl.

"Your father would have been ashamed of you!" she said, making Bilbo's jaw clench. "Traipsing around with a bunch of dwarves like... like a fool of a Took!"

This just made the dwarves grumble even more. Bilbo himself had accidentally tightened his grip on Myrtle's reins and had to consciously loosen it when the poor pony protested.

"It would do you well to remember," he said through gritted teeth, "that I am indeed part Took. If you even _think_ about getting your paws on my mother's dowry, you should think twice before offending her."

And with that he urged Myrtle forward, leaving Lobelia spluttering and threatening him with her umbrella.

The dwarves soon followed him. They were sending him curious glances and Bilbo could hear Fíli and Kíli telling the others about his… complicated relationship with his cousin. It was only a matter of time before someone started asking questions.

"What's a took?" one of the dwarves finally blurted out and Bilbo wasn't all that surprised that it was Ori. He took a deep breath, trying to steal himself.

"It's the name of one of the Hobbit families," he said and immediately sensed that he now had a much wider audience. "There are several in the Shire. I, myself, am a Baggins, as my father before me, but my mother was born a Took."

"Oh," Ori said and wrote something in his journal. Bilbo was rather impressed by his ability to write while on horseback. "Then why did that horrible Hobbit lady call you that as if it was an insult?"

Bilbo sighed and shifted in his saddle. He manoeuvred his right foot carefully out of the stirrup in an attempt to make it more comfortable and less... swollen, but he just lost his balance. Thankfully, Ori was by his side and caught him in a show of surprisingly good reflexes and strength.

“Well, um... you see,” Bilbo said, straightening in the saddle while his dignity struggled to recover. “The Baggins family is known for their respectability. In fact, I’ll have it known that my father was a very respectable hobbit.”

He looked around defiantly as if he expected the dwarves to contradict him, but none of them did. He took a deep breath and continued.

“The Tooks however... well. They are known for being much more... adventurous.” He couldn’t quite keep himself from wincing at the thought.

"Oh, that's good, isn't it?" Kíli said with a wide grin.

"Not to the rest of the Hobbits," Bilbo muttered. He only received confused looks after that and sighed. "Hobbits like a quiet life, with all the comforts of home. Adventures are considered bad for you."

"But that's just silly!" Bofur said.

Bilbo pursed his lips and didn't say anything.

"You said your mother was a Took, Bilbo," Ori prompted cautiously. "Did... did she go on adventures?"

Bilbo sent Ori a faint smile.

"Yes," he said. "Yes, she did..."

He told them about his mother's visit to the Blue Mountains (he figured they wouldn't appreciate tales of Rivendell. For _some_ reason) and the lovely trinkets she had brought back with her. He was in the middle of describing how she had used a spoon of Dwarven make to rescue her husband from being stuck between fence posts, when his stomach grumbled in displeasure.

"Is it _finally_ time for breakfast?" he asked, a little impatient by now.

Because they had not eaten anything yet. Bilbo had not had the time to eat much while preparing for the journey and he would very much like to make up for it now. But the dwarves proved to be unreasonable yet again and insisted on things like _rations_ and _no snacks_ and _normal number of meals_. They claimed that number was _three_ , which was just silly. How were they going to keep up their strength during the journey with only that?

"You should really let Bilbo eat," Fíli said, amused. "Otherwise he might end up eating one of you."

Bilbo spluttered.

"I do _not_ eat Dwarves!"

"He has a small dragon in his belly," Kíli supplied helpfully.

"I do no- Kíli!" Bilbo protested.

"It's true," Fíli said solemnly. "It devours everything he feeds it in no time."

Bilbo took a deep breath and ignored the curious looks the dwarves directed at his belly.

“Why did I decide to come with you again?” he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Because you want to rescue Uncle Thorin from evil plants!” Kíli said and Bilbo froze.

He had apparently also pulled on his reins, because Myrtle stopped with a soft neigh and the dwarves around him almost ran into him. They muttered and grumbled, but Bilbo couldn't quite find it in himself to move.

"Bilbo?" Fíli started cautiously. He had stopped his pony next to Myrtle and was now looking at him with worry.

Bilbo made himself relax his grip on the reins and let out a shaky breath.

"This... I don't..." he started, then swallowed. "I am not entering that garden!"

The silence that came after that ringed out in Bilbo's ears and he could see every single dwarf staring at him in disbelief.

"But..." Kíli said, looking lost. "But then why are you going with us?"

Bilbo sighed and shifted in his saddle. He should have probably explained matters to the lads the moment he had seen them, and he had really meant to do that. But then he had gotten injured, and the boys had been hiding from Ori, and then Lobelia had showed her ugly face, and it had just... slipped his mind. Fíli and Kíli were watching him now with truly pitiful expressions and he would have liked some privacy to talk to them about it. The rest of the dwarves might have been important to the Princes, but Bilbo barely knew them and it was a personal matter.

"I think we'll have that breakfast break now," Balin announced after a moment of tense silence.

The dwarves easily accepted that and dismounted their ponies. Bilbo didn't even try to get down from Myrtle and barely winced when Dori lifted him from the saddle and made him sit on a rock. He did notice that the dwarves were settling quite far away from him, giving him and the boys the illusion of privacy.

They were also looking at him with growing suspicion, but Bilbo just swallowed and decided not to dwell on it for now.

"I'm sorry, lads, I—" he started and moved his foot to make it more comfortable. "I'm really sorry about your uncle," he said and immediately winced at how unhelpful it sounded. "But I am not the person you are looking for. I mean, look at me!" he said, exasperated, and motioned towards his foot. "And we barely even left Hobbiton!"

"Then why did you join us?" Fíli asked.

"I— well, I'm... uh…” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I suppose I just wanted to make sure you make it back to Erebor safely," he said.

The boys blinked at him and then looked at each other. They had a moment of wordless conversation before looking back at Bilbo.

"We have the whole company for that now," Fíli said, his voice impossibly gentle.

"I know that!" Bilbo said, frustrated. He looked down at his hands. "And they can probably protect you from... orcs or goblins o-or trolls, but..." He looked up. "What if you try to eat a poisonous plant? What if you walk right into nettle? What if—"

"Bilbo," Kíli interrupted him and squeezed his hand. "We will be fine, honestly!"

"We're not actually all that hopeless."

Bilbo snorted, but let the boys continue.

"And we don't want to make you miserable."

"Which is clearly what we have been doing so far."

"And we would love it if you came to Erebor with us!"

"But if you want to go home, we—"

"Home?" This time it was Bilbo who interrupted the boys. "No. No, no, no, no! I'm going with you!"

"But—"

"Well, what do you want me to say?!" he exclaimed and wished he could do more than just throw his arms in the air. Like pace. That would have been lovely. "I—" He swallowed. "I have grown very fond of you," he murmured. "And I wasn't ready to say goodbye yet. So I decided to accompany you to Erebor." He shrugged. "Maybe stay for a while if it's not too much of a bother."

He looked down at his hands again which was why he was thoroughly unprepared when two pairs of arms enveloped him in a crushing embrace, leaving him winded. He was going to protest, he really was, but ultimately he just sighed and hugged the boys back.

"I am still not entering that murderous garden!" he told them.

"Of course," Fíli said.

Kíli nodded vigorously and squeezed him even tighter.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

By the time they reached Bree, the state of Bilbo’s foot had greatly improved.

His mood, however, had not.

It wasn’t that the dwarves made him feel unwelcome in their company. They just... didn’t make him feel particularly welcome either. They talked to him when Bilbo started the conversation, didn’t shy away from him when he sat beside them at camp, and they helped him with Myrtle when he asked — but they didn’t seek him out.

Well, except for the Princes. They still seemed to genuinely enjoy his company and Bilbo treasured every moment of it.

Those moments were few and far between though. Now that they were on the road, the boys were clearly expected to act as the group’s leaders, and leading a group of dwarves on a secret return mission turned out to be extremely time-consuming. Everything needed their attention — from route planning to supplies inventory to weather discussions. It seemed like every time they approached Bilbo, a new crisis would emerge and they would be called back by one of the dwarves, leaving Bilbo in the middle of a sentence and forcing him to swallow back the rest of his words.

So Bilbo mostly had only himself as his travel companion. Sometimes Ori or Bofur would join him for a chat, but they, too, were always called back by their families. He didn’t even have the comfort of his pipe, because he had foolishly left it back in the Shire, and no one seemed eager to share.

He caught some of them sometimes, sending him suspicious looks behind his back. Nori didn’t even bother to hide them. Bilbo understood their wariness — really, he did — but it didn’t make him feel any less miserable.

So it was a relief when they finally passed the gate in Bree. The city held the promise of a nice, comfortable bed and several warm, hearty meals, and it was enough to lift Bilbo’s spirits just a little bit.

He should have known it wouldn’t last long.

The dwarves decided to stay at The Prancing Pony. They quickly divided their company into smaller groups that were going to share rooms, which revealed a slight, but very obvious problem.

"We can take Bilbo with us!" Kíli said when it became clear that the hobbit was left out of every group.

Bilbo smiled at him, already looking forward to it. Even if the boys decided to squeeze him between them on the bed and hogged all the covers, he would be happy for the chance to finally spend some uninterrupted time with them.

Then he saw the worried look Balin exchanged with Nori and all his good mood evaporated.

"I am not going to hurt them!" he exclaimed, barely keeping himself from pulling his hair out in frustration.

"Hurt us?" Kíli repeated and blinked at Bilbo with no real comprehension. Then he glared at the company. "Who says that?"

The dwarves shifted awkwardly under his scrutiny, but none of them explained. Bilbo sighed.

"No one said—" he started.

"We just don't think this is particularly... wise," Balin interrupted him, frowning.

"We? Who's we?" Kíli crossed his arms and glowered at the company. "Is it _all_ of you?"

"Bilbo is our friend," Fíli said, his own forehead creased in displeasure. "He took us in when he thought we were just two hungry dwarflings!"

"And now he knows you're Royalty," Nori said, twiddling his knife. He wasn't being particularly subtle. "And he suddenly decided to go to Erebor, but won’t even try to help with the blasted garden? I would call that suspicious."

He looked up from his knife and raised a brow at Bilbo.

"We're not saying you have an ulterior motive here, Master Baggins," Balin said, placating. "Gandalf speaks very highly of you."

"He hasn’t seen you in decades though, so I’m pretty sure he can’t be trusted on this," Nori said.

Balin scowled at him, his lips pursed, but Nori just shrugged. Bilbo clenched his jaw and curled his hands into fists.

"Fine, I can get my own room!" he said through gritted teeth. It wasn’t as if he felt particularly fond of them right now anyway. Maybe he _should_ just get as far away from them as possible and enjoy a quiet moment of solitude.

"No, Bilbo, this is ridiculous!" Fíli protested and stepped closer to the hobbit. He squeezed Bilbo's wrist and glared at everyone who looked at them in a funny way.

"You'll stay with us, of course," Kíli agreed with a nod and stood at his other side.

A warm feeling settled in Bilbo’s chest after that show of support. He would have loved to accept Fíli and Kíli’s offer, he really would, but some of the dwarves seemed dangerously close to drawing their weapons and Bilbo did not want to be the cause of bloodshed — among friends and family, no less.

"No, really, boys," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand. "If this is going to cause trouble..."

"It's not," Fíli said, his voice hard and unyielding. "I want to make it absolutely clear: Master Baggins is not someone any of you should distrust.” He straightened to his full height and glared at the dwarves. “In fact, I _demand_ that you trust him.”

“Is that an order, Your Highness?” Nori asked and performed a mocking bow.

Fíli’s jaw tensed and his free hand twitched towards his sword.

“It might be,” he all but growled.

"Fíli, stop!” Bilbo exclaimed, panicked, and then cleared his throat. “This is not necessary!” He caught Fíli’s eyes with his own and desperately tried to make him see reason. He could feel the Prince already relenting.

"Oh, but I think it is!" Kíli said. Bilbo closed his eyes and took a shaky breath. "You left behind your lovely home and garden just to make sure we're safe on our journey home. You should not be treated with suspicion."

Bilbo sighed and shook his head. He looked at Fíli, just to check the Prince wasn’t planning anything stupid after all, and then turned to his brother.

"No, Kíli, I—" He swallowed. "I think I should have my own room."

Fíli squeezed his wrist.

"You don't have to do this, Bilbo," he said gently.

"I know, I just... don't want you to fight with your people because of me." Bilbo took a deep breath. "And they're right not to trust just anybody, after what happened to your uncles. I'm not— I'm not angry."

And he wasn't, not really. The dwarves had every reason to be suspicious. If anything, it reassured Bilbo that they would be there for his boys when the real danger came. He wasn’t going to pretend that their accusations didn’t hurt though. Bilbo was a respectable gentlehobbit from a decent family. He had lived a respectable life and he wasn’t going to start killing people now, for goodness’ sake!

Fíli sighed and massaged his temples.

"Fine," he said, unhappy.

"Fee!" Kíli protested immediately.

"We'll get Master Baggins a fine room and we'll pay for it," Fíli continued. "As well as all the meals he might want to eat."

"That might be a stretch on our resources," Glóin muttered.

Fíli clenched his jaw.

"Figure it out," he said and marched away, silently fuming.

Kíli’s eyes never left his brother until Fíli disappeared from sight, but he stayed firmly next to Bilbo, which was a relief. Bilbo didn’t know if he could stand being left alone with the company after all that had just happened. It didn’t matter that Bofur was sending him a sympathetic smile, or that Ori was actually glaring at Nori.

"Well, I suppose that settles it," Balin said, clearly unhappy about the situation. "Let's get everyone a room."

 

* * *

 

Bilbo was in a much better mood in the evening. The dwarves had gotten him a lovely room — with a private bathroom and a view of the garden, which he really appreciated. He missed his garden back home and, while he trusted the Gamgees to take good care of it, visions of coming back to dried roses and struggling tomatoes plagued his dreams.

The garden behind the inn was pretty lovely, although some parts of it needed weeding, and the hedge could do with a trim. The spring flowers were in full bloom, so Bilbo opened the window and dragged a chair to it to enjoy both their magnificent colours and smells. Maybe he could take a quick stroll through the garden in the morning, before their journey started again. 

He patted his full belly and sighed, content. Fíli had been as good as his word and had not only paid for every meal Bilbo had ordered, but had also encouraged him to get more. Bilbo had tried protesting, of course. He could well afford the food on his own. Fíli had been very determined though, so Bilbo had let him have it this time. The inn’s food had been warm and filling — if a little bland — and it had been a nice change from dry bread and salted meat.

He had left the dwarves puzzling over the number of plates he’d cleared in one sitting, and gone up to draw himself a hot bath. It had washed away the accumulated grime and sweat of the journey and Bilbo finally felt clean for the first time in ages. The warm water had also eased his aches just a little bit. His foot might have improved over time with Óin’s careful, if brusque, supervision, but the rest of his body wasn’t so fortunate. Staying in the same position while trying not to fall off the moving pony had left his back sore. His legs had been frequently cramping, and the... discomfort he’d been feeling while sitting down should never be mentioned again.

He was more relaxed now, though he had no illusions that the tension wouldn’t return. As soon as he got back on the pony, his body was sure to remind him why Hobbits didn’t travel on horseback. For now though, he was determined to enjoy his evening — despite everything that had happened earlier that day.

He had just opened one of the books he had taken with him from Bag End when someone knocked gently on the door. Bilbo frowned at his book and put it down before approaching the door with certain wariness.

“Boys?” he asked as soon as he saw the Princes fidgeting on his doorstep. “What are you doing here? Has something happened? Are you all right?”

Fíli and Kíli just frantically shushed him and wrestled their way into Bilbo’s room.

"Quiet!" Kíli said. "Nobody knows we're here!"

Bilbo frowned at them and crossed his arms.

"Oh really?" he said. "And I suppose it is going to go splendidly with the rest of your company when they find out."

"Relax, they're not going to find out," Kíli told him, almost nonchalantly, and threw himself on top of Bilbo's bed.

Bilbo blinked at him and then turned to his brother.

"Fíli?" he prompted, expecting more sense from him.

Fíli, however, only pursed his lips, raised his chin, and dared Bilbo to argue.

"I don't care what they say," he announced. "We're staying with you. And that's final."

Bilbo was really going to protest. It wasn’t responsible to let the boys stay, even though he would have liked nothing better. Fíli’s face seemed to be set in stone, however, and Bilbo had a feeling he would not be moved on this.

"All right," Bilbo said with a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "All right," he repeated and sat back down in his chair.

Fíli rolled his shoulders and relaxed his clenched jaw. He took a few deep breaths and only then joined Bilbo by the window.

“You can see the garden from our window too,” he said.

"Yours is way better, Bilbo!"

"Yes, much better," Fíli said, then his mouth twitched. "Even after our visit."

Bilbo snorted at the reminder and shook his head.

"It doesn't matter now," he said. "My neighbour is an excellent gardener and will take good care of it. No one will be able to tell that something happened to it, I promise."

The boys smiled at him brightly, but soon their grins fell and they shifted uneasily.

"We're very sorry, Bilbo," Kíli said after a while, "for how the others are treating you."

Bilbo sighed and looked out the window. He felt Fíli's hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently.

"It's not really their fault though, is it?" he said, not looking at the boys. He could just about make out the outline of the apple tree in the dying light of dusk. "They're trying to keep you safe."

"They hear a dog bark and look for the dragon," Kíli said darkly and Bilbo turned to look at him in surprise. The lad was frowning. "That sounds much better in Khuzdul," he said.

"And they don't need to keep us safe from _you_ ," Fíli said.

"Yes, but they don't know that!" Bilbo found himself saying. He shook off Fíli's hand, stood up, and started pacing. "For all they know, I could slip poison into your food and no one would be the wiser!"

He wasn't stupid. He had noticed that no one had ever let him prepare any food — the one thing that he might have actually contributed to this journey.

A sudden thought occurred to him.

"What if someone goes to check on you?" he asked, turning to face the boys. "Oh dear. Oh, this is not good at all! They will notice at once that you are gone!"

And then they would probably storm into his room and swing those silly swords around before asking any questions.

"Nah, it's fine," Kíli said, waving his hand.

"We left our packs under the blankets, so it looks like we're still sleeping," Fíli explained.

"And Fee was acting very angry before we went to our room. I doubt even Dwalin would want to bother him now."

Fíli glared at him.

"I wasn't _acting_!" he said.

Kíli shrugged.

"Worked though, didn't it?"

Fíli opened his mouth to say something, but ultimately changed his mind and simply rolled his eyes. Bilbo smiled at them and, despite his better judgment, decided to let them stay.

"Tell me something about Erebor," he said and went back to his chair.

The boys grinned and settled down beside each other on the bed.

"What would you like to know?" Fíli asked.

"Something silly will do.”

The boys nodded and turned to each other, muttering in Khuzdul.

"Don't tell Nori you know," Kíli finally said and dove right into the story.

Apparently, when Nori had been much younger — before he’d become even a lowly spy, never mind a spy _master_ — he’d had a penchant for stealing things.

“I knew it!” Bilbo exclaimed in triumph and the boys immediately shushed him. “Sorry. Go on.”

Dori had tried to put an end to it, but Nori wouldn’t listen to either threats or pleas. He’d been growing bolder with every stolen object, going to ridiculous lengths just to show off his skill.

Until one day he’d decided to steal some books for Ori from Lord Fundin’s private collection.

“Lord Fundin?” Bilbo repeated.

“Balin and Dwalin’s father,” Fíli explained. “He was the advisor to the previous King before leaving the position to Balin.”

“Think of Dwalin, but with hair!” Kíli helpfully supplied.

“Yes, he still has an impressive mane. Something most dwarves both admire and envy to this day.”

“He has _so much_ hair on his head,” Kíli said with a mischievous glint in his eye, “that we all wonder where _else_ —”He didn’t get the chance to finish before Fíli’s hand shot up and covered his mouth. Kíli glared at his brother, who simply glared back. Bilbo’s mouth twitched from badly concealed amusement.

“ _Anyway_...” Fíli said pointedly and went back to the story.

Lord Fundin had lived in the Royal Wing, and his position had granted him several levels of protection. Somehow, Nori had gotten through all of them and slipped into Fundin’s quarters unnoticed when the dwarf had been away, attending a meeting. Nori hadn’t expected that meeting to be cut short though, and had been taken by surprise when he’d heard Fundin’s voice on the other side of the door.

“Oh, did he get caught?” Bilbo asked gleefully, leaning forward in his chair.

“Better,” Fíli told him with a smirk. “He panicked.”

There had been many possible hiding places in the spacious rooms, but somehow, for some reason, Nori had chosen the garbage container.

“He did not!” Bilbo said incredulously in the middle of a giggling fit.

“He did!” Kíli said with a giant grin plastered on his face. “And he stayed there for the whole night!”

It made Bilbo laugh even harder.

“He would have stayed longer, too,” Fíli continued, “but the smell turned out to be too much for him in the end, and he had a coughing fit.”

Bilbo imagined an angry, hairy Dwalin going to investigate a strange noise and pulling a dwarf out of his garbage container. His sides were beginning to ache.

“He should have been arrested, but Fundin was so impressed with his skill and... um... well... _perseverance_ that he offered to train him as a spy,” Fíli said, his voice shaking with contained laughter. Kíli didn’t even try to contain anything — he was curled up on the bed, clutching his stomach and shaking. “Well... _after_ he threw him into a bath, of course.”

That just made matters worse. Bilbo could hardly breathe anymore, and his belly was beginning to hurt as well.

"I can't believe it!" he exclaimed when he finally regained some composure. "In the garbage container!"

"Yep!" Kíli confirmed, grinning.

"The whole night!"

"I bet the smell of rotten food still haunts his dreams,” Fíli said, making Bilbo giggle again.

“Oh, I needed that,” he said and smiled fondly at the Princes. “Thank you, lads. I guess it’s a good thing my room is so far away from everybody else’s after all. With all that laughing, we would have had Dwalin on our backs ages ago if it was any closer.

“Yes, Dwalin,” Kíli said, suppressing a smile. “Or Nori. Emerging from the garbage container.”

And just like that, they started laughing again.

 

* * *

 

They stayed up late into the night, exchanging stories like they used to do at Bag End. Bilbo told them about Lobelia accidentally walking into a door, and a freshly painted one too, and the boys returned the favour by sharing more stories about the King.

Their _uncle_ , Bilbo reminded himself.

They briefly considered staying until morning, but it would be very easy to oversleep and cause a panic among the rest of the dwarves. Bilbo rather wanted to avoid that.

He also insisted on walking them back to their room.

"You are being silly," Kíli told him.

"We found our way once, we can do that again," Fíli added.

"I believe you," Bilbo said and kept walking beside them through the deserted corridors of the inn.

The brothers both rolled their eyes but didn't protest. Soon they reached the correct door.

"See? All good!" Kíli said and opened it.

Immediately, Bilbo knew something wasn’t right. The room was dark and still, but there was something about it that didn’t sit quite well with him. Perhaps a sound, or maybe a smell?

Bilbo sniffed the air. He was immediately transported back to his garden, saw himself watering tomatoes not yet ripe. Only this smell was more intense, much less pleasant. Something foreign and yet familiar at the same time.

Something deadly.

"Belladona," Bilbo whispered, horrified.

"What, your mother?" Kíli asked, stepping over the threshold without a care in the world.

Bilbo panicked and grabbed his wrist before pulling him back out of the room. He shut the door and leaned on it, looking around frantically.

"Bilbo!" Kíli said, confused. "What are you doing? Are you all right?"

"Go wake the others," Bilbo told the boys.

He wasn't sure it was entirely safe, but Balin and Dwalin were just one room over, and the door to it was but a few feet away. They should be fine, he really hoped they would be fine, and if not, he would hopefully be able to intervene.

"What's wrong?" Fíli asked, a worried frown on his young face.

"Just... please," Bilbo said, urging them to move with his eyes. "I'll explain, but we need more protection."

Fíli's eyes widened, but he didn't question him further. He just nodded tersely, his lips pursed, and dragged Kíli with him to the next room.

Bilbo closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths to try and keep the panic at bay. Almost immediately though, his eyes flew open and he squeaked when he felt himself being lifted in the air by the collar of his nightshirt.

"What have you done, you treacherous worm?" Dwalin growled at him.

"It's not Bilbo!" Fíli said, immediately back at Bilbo's side. "Dwalin," he said, a hard tone creeping into his voice. "Put the hobbit down."

Dwalin glared at Bilbo, but did as he was told. Bilbo's panic was back with a vengeance, but he gritted his teeth and gave himself a determined nod.

Practically all the dwarves were gathered around him now, alert and ready to take action. That was good, really good, but Bilbo needed them to focus on Fíli and Kíli, not him.

"Someone was in the Princes' room," he said.

Well, that seemed to do the trick.

Dwalin pushed him away from the door and stepped into the boys' room, his brother following with a much needed candle. The rest of the dwarves got in as well, leaving Bilbo to drag behind them.

At first glance, nothing seemed to be amiss – the beds were neatly made, and the quilts really _were_ rolled over the Princes’ bags like they’d said. Dwalin sent them a look that promised a long, unpleasant conversation.

And then they noticed the arrows.

There were maybe five of them sticking out from each quilt. Even though they had clearly been there for a while, it seemed to Bilbo like they were still quivering. He took a shaky breath and forced down a wave of nausea.

For a moment, no one moved. They all just stood there and stared at the arrows, petrified. Then Dwalin took a step forward.

"Don't touch them!" Bilbo shrieked. Everyone turned to look at him, some of them just shocked, some suspicious. "They're poisoned."

"And how exactly do you know that?" Nori asked, his eyes narrowed.

Bilbo huffed and crossed his arms.

"I can smell belladonna on them," he said.

"Oh," Kíli breathed. He blinked quickly a couple of times and then turned to Bilbo. "Your mother was named after a poison?"

Bilbo winced. Kíli’s comment earned him a few suspicious glances, but this was not the best time to explain how Hobbit names worked.

"It's not _just_ poison," he said, deliberately vague.

Dwalin hummed and came closer to the beds. He pulled out one of the arrows before Bilbo could protest again and sniffed the head.

"Definitely laced with something," he muttered darkly and turned to Bilbo with a glower. "If you're such an expert on this, Hobbit, tell us how bad this poison is! Does it give you a fever? Make you vomit? See things?”

"This much of it?" Bilbo swallowed. "It's deadly," he whispered. He heard Ori gasp beside Dori who squeezed his brother's shoulders reassuringly. "Even without all the arrows."

Dwalin's jaw worked furiously when he turned the arrow this way and that in the dim light of Balin's candle.

"This arrow is of Dwarven make," he said, which made some of the dwarves curse and some others mutter in angry Khuzdul. "We have been found."

"I don't understand, what does it mean?" Kíli asked, looking lost.

"It means," Fíli told him through gritted teeth, "that if we had stayed in our room like everyone told us to, we would have been dead by now."

Bilbo whimpered and immediately covered his mouth with his hand to stop himself from sobbing.

"And we're very glad you're not," Balin said. The shadows cast by the candle only magnified the strain around his eyes. "It would be best to find another place to talk. Let us not linger here."

"Come to my room then," Bilbo offered. "It's on the other side of the inn and if the...” he paused and gulped, “assassins knew about it, they would have certainly tried to get Fíli and Kíli there."

"How very convenient for you," Nori muttered.

Bilbo bristled. It should be obvious by now that he did not wish Fíli and Kíli any harm. If it was really him trying to kill them, why would he stick arrows in empty beds when he had the perfect opportunity with the boys coming to his room? And _when_ exactly was he supposed to do it if they were with him the whole time?

But Nori had apparently decided not to trust him, no matter what Bilbo did. Thankfully, the rest of the company seemed to know better now, and Bilbo led a small procession of gloomy dwarves to his room. Before he could open the door, his hand slightly shaking, Dwalin moved him out of the way — much more gently than before.

"Let me search it first, lad," the dwarf said and Bilbo didn't protest.

Dwalin entered the room with Nori and Bifur directly behind him. They spread out around the room, making sure to check the bathroom as well, but found nothing. The rest of the company trickled into the room after that, with the dwarves forming a protective circle around their Princes. The boys didn't exactly look happy about it, but Bilbo was glad to see them shielded. He went towards his chair on shaky legs and sat heavily in it, hiding his face in his hands.

He heard the dwarves shuffle around, perhaps trying to find the best place for themselves. Some of them were clearly lighting candles. Then everything went quiet.

"So what happens now?" Fíli asked the silent room. "I thought whoever was doing all this wanted us back in the mountain."

"Someone has clearly gotten impatient," Balin muttered.

"Or perhaps something’s changed," Nori said nonchalantly and the dwarves fell quiet again. When Bilbo finally looked up to see what all this was about, he found Nori's unforgiving stare focused on himself.

"Oh, for Eru's sake!" Bilbo exclaimed and left his chair in favour of pacing. "I had nothing to do with this!"

"You knew it was poison without even looking at the arrows," Nori pointed out.

"I _know_ how belladonna smells!" Bilbo said, exasperated. "And I _know_ how it works! I am a Hobbit _and_ a gardener! I need to know my plants well."

"Including the poisonous ones?" Nori asked incredulously and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Yes!" Bilbo all but hissed. "How else am I supposed to know which ones I shouldn't pick? What— what if I ate one of them by accident?"

"Then I suppose we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"Nori!"

That was Dori's voice, which Bilbo didn't quite expect. The dwarf was glaring at his brother and looked about ready to scold him like a mischievous fauntling. Bilbo could only gape. This had never happened before. Not when it came to defending him. If anything, Dori had always seemed to agree with his brother, even if the unhappy set of his eyebrows indicated that he didn't actually like it.

Bilbo was surprised to see that most of the dwarves seemed to be on his side now.

"This is not helping," Kíli said. "Bilbo had nothing to do with this."

"And we have bigger problems now than putting the blame where it doesn't belong!" Fíli added. "We have clearly been found and once whoever’s behind all this mess learns that their plan has failed, they'll just try again!"

Bilbo felt a shiver creep down his spine at the mere thought.

"We can't let that happen!" he said. "What do we do?"

He looked around, searching for answers, but everyone looked just as lost as he felt.

"What do you propose, Your Highness?" Balin asked Fíli.

The Prince crossed his arms and clenched his jaw.

"We have two options," he said. "We can either continue down the tract or go a more roundabout way. I'm not sure it would do us much good though. If they tracked us here, they can very easily follow us wherever we go."

Balin nodded.

"I think you're right," he said.

“It would also take much longer," Kíli added.

"So what, we just continue as we were and watch out for poisoned arrows?" Bofur asked, clearly not convinced. "What if it's something else next time?"

Suddenly the dwarves started talking all at once and the room was slowly dissolving into chaos. Fíli and Kíli were gesticulating a lot, Nori endured a stern lecture from both his brothers, while Dwalin and Balin argued about what sounded to Bilbo like protective formations. Bofur tried to calm his cousin who was rapidly spewing things in angry Khuzdul at Óin and Glóin, and Bombur just stood in the corner, deep in thought.

This was clearly not working and someone had to come up with a plan soon.

"How about some camouflage?" Bilbo asked.

The whole room immediately fell silent and turned to look at him. Bilbo shifted nervously from foot to foot, not happy with the attention.

"What do you mean, lad?" Dwalin asked, frowning at him. It made the tattoos on his scalp tighten.

"Um... well," Bilbo started and cleared his throat. "They will be looking for a group of dwarves on ponies, won't they? So maybe we should just... change that. Just for a little bit at least."

"How do you mean?" Balin raised a curious eyebrow at him.

Bilbo took a deep breath. He had a feeling they were not going to like it.


	9. Chapter 9

 

Bilbo pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to drown the noise behind him by munching on an apple with much more determination than it really needed. It didn’t help. One poor apple could never hope to rival the fuss that twelve unhappy dwarves could make.

They were supposed to be quiet. The whole plan depended on them sitting patiently on their behinds and keeping their mouths nice and shut.

In retrospect, Bilbo didn’t know why he had ever thought this could work.

It wasn’t that Bilbo didn’t understand why they might not be perfectly happy with the plan. A dozen dwarves squished together in a merchant cart wasn’t exactly his idea of fun either, but it had seemed sensible enough at the time.

“They are looking for Dwarves,” he had said. “They’re probably not going to look twice at a Hobbit with some merchandise.”

It wasn’t a good plan, but no one had come up with a better one, so the dwarves had reluctantly agreed to it. They had bought a cart and told Bilbo to drive, and then had the gall to constantly complain about it.

Loudly.

The cart jumped on the uneven road and a new wave of angry Khuzdul assaulted Bilbo’s ears.

“That wasn’t necessary!” Bofur yelled at him. His voice was a little muffled, as if he was crushed under something. Or some _one_. Bilbo really didn’t want to know.

“Sorry!” he called back and steered around another bump on the road. The ponies whinnied in protest. “Shhh, girls, I know, I know,” he said gently, trying to soothe them.

They had sold most of the ponies back in Bree and only kept four that would pull the cart, including Myrtle and the Princes’ ponies.

“We can’t leave them here!” Kíli had cried out after someone had suggested choosing four at random. He had hugged his pony’s neck and wouldn’t let go even after she had bitten him. “They got attached!” he’d said before jumping out of the way of angry hooves.

Fíli had not been so vocal about it, but he had clearly disliked the idea of leaving his own pony behind as well. The rest of the dwarves had not particularly cared — some of them hadn’t even been sure which pony belonged to them — so they had let the Princes choose.

“We’re taking Myrtle!” Kíli had said at once. “She’s friends with our ponies!”

The dwarves had just rolled their eyes at that, but none of them had protested. Bilbo wouldn’t show it, but he had been grateful; he had grown attached to his pony and would have been sad to see her go.

After that, Kíli had chosen another pony, and to explain his reasons he’d used logic so convoluted that even Fíli had stared at him incredulously.

They were all good, sturdy ponies, but they were not used to pulling a cart. Or working together for that matter. It made for quite an interesting ride, even without taking into account the uneven track.

Which had been a right nightmare to navigate. There was another hole in the road that Bilbo was not able to evade this time. The cart swayed dangerously to the side and then jumped, rattling the dwarves inside it.

“I thought you said you could drive this thing!” Dwalin growled at him.

“I’m not doing this on purpose!”

Honestly, they should count themselves lucky that he really did know how to drive a cart. He had never done it with four inexperienced ponies before, but at least he had _some_ idea of what to do. He could have just driven them into a ditch.

Which was actually beginning to sound more and more appealing by the minute.

“It’s his revenge,” Óin muttered darkly. “He’s punishing us for thinking badly of him.”

“We didn’t!” Fíli and Kíli immediately protested.

Bilbo looked up in a silent plea for patience and stopped the ponies. He ignored the protests and hopped down from the cart before circling it and lifting the material covering it.

The witty retort he had planned to use died on his lips as soon as he saw the dwarves, and he burst out laughing.

Ori was curled in the corner, clutching his stomach and looking a little green. Dori had one arm around him while the other was strangely contorted, supporting the weight of Bifur's legs. Bifur was lying upside down, muttering angrily and trying to get Óin's feet out of his face. Óin didn't seem to notice. He was squeezed in another corner, in the middle of Bombur's collection of pots and pans, busy glaring at one heavy pan and massaging his head. Bofur squirmed under a mountain of sleeping rolls and blankets, his face inches away from the axe in Bifur's head. Balin was also half-covered by blankets, some of which were _on fire_. Bilbo glared at the pipe lying next to Balin, and did not feel sorry for him when Balin started coughing. He had told them multiple times not to smoke inside the cart, but they never listened.

The fire was a wee thing, quickly put out by Glóin, who was soaked with water and simply wringed the edge of his tunic on the smoking blanket, grumbling in Khuzdul. There was a bottle near him still oozing water onto Dwalin's face that landed entirely too close to Glóin's arse. Dwalin was trying to lift himself, but Nori's weight kept bringing him back down. Nori's spiky hair had gotten tangled in Dwalin's war hammer, getting completely undone. Their joint efforts to rectify the situation only ended up making it even worse. Fíli was trying to get out of the way of their thrashing bodies, pushing Kíli more firmly into the cart's side. The Princes were both covered in leftover stew, and Kíli still had the upended bowl on his lap.

They were all a miserable sight — except for Bombur, who was lying in the middle of the cart, sound asleep.

“It’s not funny!” Kíli pouted.

“It is a bit,” Bilbo said, trying in vain to contain his giggles.

The dwarves collectively glared at him.

“If you could try not to make the cart shake quite so much, it would be wonderful,” Dori said, frowning down at Ori’s curled form.

“I told you, I’m not doing it on purpose. It’s not my fault that the road is so uneven!”

“Can we get out of here now?” Kíli asked, presenting Bilbo with his best set of puppy eyes.

Bilbo pursed his lips. He would love to let the dwarves out of the cart, he really would. If nothing else, it would stop them from complaining so much, at least for a moment.

It was too dangerous to let them out when it was still light outside though. They were already taking a risk every time they set up camp for the night, but the mere thought of driving the cart in the dark, on the road he couldn’t see, with ponies that didn’t cooperate, and dwarves that cooperated even less, was giving Bilbo a mighty headache.

“Sorry,” he said, genuinely regretful. Kíli’s face fell and some of the other dwarves groaned in displeasure. Bilbo sighed. “Look, it’s almost dusk. We’ll soon be able to set up camp.”

“Can’t we at least stretch now?” Fíli actually whined, staring longingly outside the cart.

Bilbo took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“No,” he said firmly.

He ignored the offended mix of Khuzdul and Westron that followed him as he stomped back to the front of the cart. He hopped up to his seat and huffed.

Honestly, Bilbo didn’t know why he still bothered sticking to the plan. The dwarves were incapable of staying silent and he might as well just let them walk around as they pleased. They were getting worse as well, or perhaps Bilbo’s patience was wearing thin.

Still, if there was even a slight chance that they had not been discovered yet, Bilbo was going to take it.

He urged the ponies on a little bit too hard and immediately drove into another bump on the road.

“Can’t you be more careful?” Óin yelled at him.

Bilbo pursed his lips.

“Can’t you be more _quiet_?” he hissed. “You’re going to ruin the plan!”

“It’s a stupid plan anyway,” one of the dwarves muttered. Bilbo’s brow furrowed when he recognized Kíli’s voice.

“Well, it keeps you alive,” he said, a little hurt. “Now shush! There’s a caravan coming our way!”

The dwarves mercifully fell silent and Bilbo sighed with relief, enjoying a moment of peace and quiet. He turned his face towards the evening sun and started humming.

The dwarves hated when he did that, but they couldn’t very well do much about it now. Bilbo was not a petty hobbit, he really wasn’t, but he still went through every traditional Hobbit song he could think of, and then some.

He was just starting on some lullabies when he heard a heavy sigh from the back.

“There is no caravan coming, is there?” Balin asked.

“Of course there is!” Bilbo lied cheerfully. “It’s just around the corner.”

“It has been ‘just around the corner’ since the start,” Glóin grumbled.

“Well, it’s _slow_. Now shush!”

Amazingly, they actually listened to him for once. Bilbo didn’t fool himself by thinking it had anything to do with his, usually ineffective, persuasion skills — most likely, the dwarves were simply tired. Bilbo squinted at the sun hanging low over the horizon and decided that it was time to settle down for the night. He was looking around, searching for a small clearing or just a nice, sheltered area, when a Man walked onto the road, right in front of the ponies.

Bilbo pulled sharply on the reins. The ponies whinnied in protest, but stopped, and Bilbo took a couple of deep, steadying breaths before looking up. He was expecting the man to be gone, and so startled when he saw him still standing in the middle of the road.

Watching Bilbo.

“H-hello?” Bilbo started cautiously. “Sir? Are you all right?”

The man didn’t answer; he simply stood there in silence, making Bilbo squirm in his seat. He tried to read something from the man’s face, but it was mostly hidden under the hood of his heavy cloak.

Then the man tilted his head.

“A very nice cart you have here,” he said. “Mind if I take a look?”

Bilbo balled his hands into fists to stop them from shaking. This wasn’t looking good. It would be bad enough if the man was just a common thief, but at least then Bilbo could unleash the dwarves on him and hope for the best. But with someone out there trying to kill his boys, this could turn out to be so much worse.

It could be a trap.

“I-I do mind, actually,” Bilbo said, his voice cracking.

The man smirked under his hood.

“Well, that’s a pity. You see, I really want to have a look.”

Keeping his eyes fixed on Bilbo, he casually moved his cloak to the side and put his hand on a dagger he had strapped to his belt. Bilbo let out a soft whimper.

“W-well,” he said and swallowed. “I b-beg your pardon, sir, but... but this is rather a private... matter a-and, _and_... I would thank you to move out of the way.”

The man’s jaw tightened. He threw his hood back and narrowed his eyes at Bilbo.

“Well, look at that,” he said with a sneer. “The little fly can bite.” His nose twitched and he pulled out the dagger. “Show me what you’ve got in the back,” he growled, all traces of humour gone.

Bilbo stared at the dagger and laughed nervously. He let the reins slip out from his sweaty hands.

“You... you wouldn’t like it,” he said.

The man hummed and slowly turned the dagger in his hands, watching Bilbo all the time. Then he shrugged and sent the dagger flying. Bilbo yelped and curled in his seat, shielding his face with his arms and waiting for the pain to come.

It didn’t.

The man started laughing and Bilbo gingerly lowered his arms and opened his eyes. He stared at the dagger buried in the wooden frame of the cart, blinked at it, took a deep breath, and pulled it out.

The man stopped laughing.

“Give it back, you little thief!” he yelled.

Bilbo ignored him. He awkwardly held the dagger away from his body and hopped down from the cart, trying not to impale himself in the process. It was really more of a sword than a dagger for someone his size.

“You will regret this!” the man called and started running.

“I’m already regretting this,” Bilbo muttered and ran towards the back of the cart, holding the dagger before him and praying not to trip.

And then he nearly stabbed Kíli in the stomach when the boy jumped down from the cart and landed right in front of him.

Bilbo let out a panicked squeak, but managed to stop himself just in time. He lowered the dagger with shaking hands, panting heavily. Kíli simply sent him an amused smile and pointed back at the rest of the dwarves, who were all out of the cart, ready to fight. “You have nowhere left to run, you little worm!” the man yelled before finally rounding the cart. He stopped dead in his tracks and gaped at the dwarves.

“Told you you wouldn’t like it,” Bilbo said with a shrug.

Before the man could so much as blink in response, the dwarves let out a mighty roar that startled Bilbo and sent the man running into the woods. The dwarves followed him in full battle mode, some of them a little unsteady on their feet after a day’s travel in a cramped cart. Bilbo took a deep breath, sent out yet another prayer for patience, and ran after them, still desperately trying not to stab himself with the little sword.

“Don’t kill him!” he said when he reached them. The dwarves had the man surrounded, their weapons all drawn and ready to strike. “He might know something!”

The dwarves exchanged glances and then turned to look sceptically at the man.

“He’s just a common thief,” Dwalin said and spat on the ground next to the man’s boots.

“Opportunity seeker,” the man sneered.

Dwalin snorted and tightened his grip on one of his axes.

“He wouldn’t know his own arsehole from a mineshaft,” he said.

The dwarves all cheered. Loudly. Bilbo massaged his temples in a futile attempt to prevent a building headache.

“Maybe,” he said. “But there _are_ people out there wishing us ill. What if he knows something about that? What if he’s helping them? You can surely see that the timing is a bit suspicious!”

“That’s a lovely thought, Bilbo,” Fíli told him gently, “but thieves are not uncommon on this tract, though they normally work in groups.”

“Yeah, we got ambushed lots of times on our way to the Shire!” Kíli said with a shrug. Every dwarf turned to glare at him, including Fíli. “I mean, they’re annoying pests like that, really. Just… awful!”

“Watch who you call a pest, you hairless rat!” the man growled.

Everyone ignored him.

“We are dealing with Dwarves though,” Nori said. “And this one here is definitely not a Dwarf.”

Bilbo scowled at him.

“That didn’t seem to bother you when you accused _me_ of helping them.”

Nori glared at him in a way that made it clear he still didn’t trust Bilbo one bit. The other dwarves looked at him thoughtfully though.

“Master Baggins has a point,” Balin admitted reluctantly.

And then Dwalin smacked the man on the head with the blunt end of his axe.

“What did you do that for?” Bilbo asked, annoyed, pointing at the unconscious mess on the ground. “What if you hit him too hard?”

“Friend of yours, is he?” Nori muttered.

Bilbo sent him a dark look. And then he nearly joined the man on the ground when Kíli decided to give him a reassuring pat on the back.

“Relax, Bilbo!” the Prince told him cheerfully. “Dwalin’s the Captain of the Guard. He knows what he’s doing.”

Bilbo very much doubted that. He grumbled unhappily that not every race was gifted with thick skulls, but the dwarves just ignored him. He sighed and watched as Dori lifted the man and threw him over his shoulder with surprising ease. The man’s head was hanging so low that his long hair swept the ground behind Dori. Bilbo winced and fervently hoped there weren’t any larger stones on the road.

He grudgingly followed the dwarves back to the cart, half-expecting another attack. He awkwardly held his newly acquired sword and prayed that he wouldn’t have to use it. He would probably just hurt himself.

When he reached the road, he found the dwarves frowning at the cart.

“Oh, sweet Yavanna, what _now_?” he whined.

“Well,” Bofur said, still frowning. “There’s a bit of a problem.”

The dwarves parted a little to let Bilbo see inside the cart.

“Ah,” he said and also frowned.

There was no way they could all fit in the cart now. Twelve Dwarves was already a tight fit; adding a Man to it — even squished into a corner and folded in half — seemed like an impossible feat. And Bilbo was certainly not going to suggest that they _sit_ on him.

“Well,” he said with a sigh, his shoulders drooping. “Let’s hope we have run out of bad luck for one day. Fíli, Kíli, you can ride in the front with me and... I suppose some of you can brave the ponies...”

The dwarves exchanged looks that Bilbo didn’t like one bit.

“Oh, I don’t know...” Bofur said. His eyes sparkled with glee. “I think we can save some space.”

“Yes!” Kíli nodded solemnly. “Bilbo here is so small, just the perfect size!”

“I am not small!” Bilbo exclaimed and would have thrown his arms in the air in frustration if it weren’t for the sword.

“You are a bit, Bilbo,” Fíli said and ruffled his hair.

Bilbo glared at him.

“And I suppose you’re all giants, are you?”

“Nah...” Bofur said and took the sword out of Bilbo’s hands with one effortless move. “Still taller than you though.”

He nodded at Kíli who grinned before picking Bilbo up and carrying him towards the cart.

“Oh no, you don’t!” Bilbo grumbled and started squirming to get away. Kíli’s grip on him only tightened. “Kíli, I swear! If you don’t put me down _this instant_ , I won’t bake you any cookies!”

Kíli paused and Bilbo was already celebrating his victory, but then the infuriating dwarf simply shrugged and kept walking.

“You can’t bake cookies on the road anyway, Bilbo,” he said.

Bilbo cursed. This was truly a terrible time for Kíli to become _reasonable_.

“I’ll let you name the ponies whatever you want!”

This time Kíli didn’t even stop to consider it, just deposited Bilbo on the cart’s floor.

“Fíli won’t,” he said with a grin.

Bilbo scrambled to his feet. This was his chance to—

The cart swayed gently and, before Bilbo could do anything at all, Bofur appeared on his right side and Bifur on his left, making his escape impossible. He crossed his arms and glared.

“Cheer up, Bilbo!” Fíli said with a frankly indecent grin on his face as most of the company climbed onto the cart as well, pushing Bilbo into a corner. “You begin to look like Lobelia.”

Bilbo spluttered.

“I beg your pardon!” he called, but both Princes had already run away laughing.

And then the cart started moving, sending him sprawling all over Bofur.

He really hated his own plans sometimes.

 

* * *

 

There was no part of Bilbo’s body that didn’t hurt. He had even discovered some new ones, and they had all announced their existence in a dreadfully painful manner. They would probably turn rather colourful come morning as well. All because of two Dwarven Princes and their inability to drive a cart.

As soon as they stopped, Bilbo crawled out of the cart and collapsed on the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Balin forbidding the Princes from ever, _ever_ , driving the cart again.

“But we were doing great!” Kíli pouted.

“No, Your Highness.” Balin’s face was nearly as white as his beard. “I’m pretty certain you were trying to kill us.”

“We wouldn’t! Fíli, tell Balin we wouldn’t!”

Bilbo stopped listening and closed his eyes, waiting for the nausea to pass.

The short ride really had felt like a murder attempt. The boys had driven the cart into what seemed like every possible hole or bump on the road and, just to make matters more interesting, they had done it _at full gallop_.

“I take back every bad word I said about Master Baggins driving,” Glóin said, picking pieces of wood out of his beard.

“Aye!” Bofur all but collapsed next to Bilbo. “Not even his humming could be this bad.”

Bilbo glared at him with one eye.

“Thank you, Bofur,” he said drily. “That is some high praise.”

Bofur just grinned at him and winked.

There was a moment of blessed silence when the dwarves started bustling around, getting ready for the night. The boys were sent away to gather wood for the fire. They grudgingly complied, but grumbled all the way to the forest, and probably beyond. Glóin cleared a small space for the fire while Bombur got busy peeling potatoes into a large pot. Dori and Dwalin had organized the company’s packs and were now placing the sleeping rolls around the fireside with help from Óin and Nori. Poor Ori still looked a little green, but it didn’t deter him from helping Bifur with the ponies. It left Balin with the task of tying their captive to a tree.

Bilbo closed his eyes and let out a contented sigh.

And then the angry shouting started.

“Let me go, you filthy rodents!” Bilbo jumped in alarm and looked around frantically, but none of the dwarves seemed particularly concerned. “Release me now and I’ll spare your sorry lives!”

Dwalin abandoned the remaining packs with a put-upon sigh and approached the man. He didn’t look very impressed.

“I think you have the wrong idea here,” he said. “You’re the one tied to a tree.”

The man sent him an ugly look and struggled against his bonds. Dwalin raised an eyebrow at him and waited until he tired himself.

“Impressive,” he said and called for Nori to join him.

“Oh, this is getting interesting!” Bofur cheered from beside Bilbo. “He will be singing in no time!”

“I will skin you all, you rats!” the man yelled. “I will string you up by your whiskers!”

Bilbo winced.

“Yes. It’s working splendidly so far,” he muttered.

Bofur clapped him on the back, very nearly sending Bilbo’s face on a painful meeting with the ground.

“They’ll crack him soon, you’ll see!”

“I will pluck the wings of the little fly first!” the man yelled, completely ignoring Dwalin and Nori.

Bilbo hummed, rather unconvinced.

“You smoke, Bilbo?” Bofur asked.

When Bilbo turned to look at him, Bofur already had his pipe packed and was working towards lighting it. Bilbo’s hands twitched. He frowned at them and clasped them together on his lap.

“I do,” he said, aiming for a lighter tone. “I just left my pipe at home.”

“We can share.”

Bilbo raised his eyebrows in surprise. None of the dwarves had ever offered to share a pipe with him before. The boys probably would have, but they didn’t smoke. They had no patience for it and would likely choke to death if they ever tried. The other dwarves were too wary of him to share, as if worried he had vials of belladonna hidden behind his teeth.

Bofur looked earnest enough though, with his easy smile and gentle eyes, and Bilbo felt a small spark of hope igniting in his chest.

He accepted the pipe, aware that all the other dwarves were watching him closely. He took a tentative draw and blew a perfect smoke ring.

“You gotta teach me how to do that!” Bofur said after Bilbo returned the pipe to him. He took a draw. “Oh, I needed that!” he sighed contentedly and gave the pipe back to Bilbo.

They passed it between them a couple of times, and then Bilbo started showing Bofur how to make smoke rings. The dwarf was not even close to learning that particular skill, but it didn’t seem to matter, as they were soon laughing too hard to attempt even the smallest puffs without the risk of choking.

“Hey, no fair!” Kíli’s petulant voice cut through their mirth. Still terribly amused, Bilbo turned and saw the Princes standing at the edge of the forest with armfuls of wood. “Why are you having all the fun without us?”

“We’ve only been gone for a moment!” Fíli whined.

“You should have more respect for Royalty,” Kíli muttered, pointing an accusatory tree branch at Bilbo and Bofur. He dropped the rest of his load practically on top of Glóin.

“Careful!” Glóin warned him. “My Gimli isn’t so far behind you in the—”

“Yeah, yeah!” Kíli waved a hand, almost making Fíli lose his load of wood. Fíli glared at him and deposited it safely by the fireside. “Like he would want the stupid crown!”

He marched towards Bilbo and sat down by his side. He intercepted Bofur’s pipe and took a long drag of smoke that he promptly inhaled. Which resulted in a coughing fit. Of course.

Bilbo rolled his eyes and took the pipe out of Kíli’s unresisting hands.

Fíli joined them a moment later after a stern lecture from Balin. The man’s yelling quickly incorporated what Kíli had said, and he was now promising to ‘wipe out the whole Royal line of rodents’ if the dwarves didn’t let him go. Balin was quite possibly not entirely happy about it.

“Balin put us next to Dwalin and Nori again for tomorrow,” Fíli complained and sat next to his brother with a miserable expression.”

“What? He can’t do that!” Kíli protested. When his brother just stared ahead with a clenched jaw, he grabbed his arm and shook it. “Fee, he can’t do that!”

Fíli winced and pulled his arm out of Kíli’s grasp.

“He can.”

“But... but you know how they get! We—”

“I know!”

Kíli pursed his lips before nodding with determination.

“We can order him not to!”

Fíli startled and sent his brother a disbelieving look. Kíli crossed his arms and pouted.

“You two Princelings are adorable,” Bofur said and frowned at the shapeless mass of smoke he blew.

“Are not!” Kíli grumbled.

Bilbo and Bofur exchanged amused looks and continued sharing the pipe, to the tune of the man’s unrelenting yelling.

“... the little rats in a barrel of hot iron!”

“Oh, for Mahal’s sake!” Nori sighed and shoved a piece of cloth into the man’s mouth. It didn’t deter him, but at least now his shouts were somewhat muffled. “He doesn’t know anything!”

“Or maybe you’re just losing your touch,” Dwalin said.

“Mmm... wanna find out?” Nori asked and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, making Bilbo choke on pipe smoke.

Dwalin just looked at him, unimpressed.

“Stop asking him about the hobbit,” he said and marched away.

Nori glared at his retreating back and made a rather rude hand gesture that Bilbo didn’t want to know the meaning of.

“We’re doomed,” Kíli whispered, terrified, and Bilbo couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

After that, the dwarves started settling in for the night. They ate the soup that Bombur had prepared for them and sat around the fire to exchange stories and sing. Bilbo observed them with a nostalgic smile, fondly remembering walking trips with his cousins, when he’d been a part of the group rather than an outsider.

“Have _you_ ever tried Dwarven ale, Bilbo?” Bofur asked, startling him.

He looked around to see several dwarves watching him expectantly. He blinked and waited for them to laugh at some joke at his expense that he’d missed, but they simply continued watching him with genuine curiosity.

Bilbo swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat and nodded.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I have...”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Um... it's been a while, I know. I'm sorry. It's not been a great year for me.  
> If you really want to blame someone though, blame [my coworkers](https://bullshitmycoworkerssay.tumblr.com/). In fact, please do. They suck out all my energy with their bullshit and they just _won't shut up_.  
>  Ekhm... Anyway... here's the chapter.

A sudden loud noise made Bilbo stop in his tracks and look around frantically. His heart jumped up to his throat and was beating wildly, already anticipating weapons and accusations flying his way... but nothing happened. The dwarves slept on, most of them snoring.

Bilbo closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath.

“It was probably the fire crackling,” Kíli said right behind him.

Bilbo jumped and nearly dropped the torch he was carrying. He turned around and glared at the Princes.

“Be quiet!” he hissed.

The boys nodded and shushed each other loudly. Bilbo sighed, squared his shoulders, and started walking again. He stepped over a large twig, only to hear it snap a moment later. He winced and turned around again.

“Why did I let you come with me?” Bilbo asked, exasperated.

Fíli shrugged, moving his foot away from the twig’s sorry remains with a sheepish expression. His brother did not look apologetic at all.

“Well, you are not very strong,” Kíli said with a large grin. His eyes focused on something over Bilbo’s shoulder and he waved. “Bofur’s giving us signs!”

And then he promptly ignored everything Bilbo had cautioned him against and hurried towards where Bofur supposedly was, snapping twigs and kicking stones on his way.

Bilbo closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“This is the worst plan ever,” he muttered.

Fíli chuckled lightly beside him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Relax,” he said. “It’s not like they’ll kill us if we wake them up.”

He squeezed Bilbo’s shoulder and followed his brother at a more reasonable pace. Bilbo scowled at his retreating back. It was easy for him to say; after all, the Princes would certainly not be harmed by their friends and subjects. Bilbo, however, could very well become a target in Nori’s knife-throwing practice.

He grumbled about thick Dwarven skulls and followed the boys to the edge of the campsite.

“There you are!” Bofur exclaimed, making no effort to lower his voice. Bilbo winced and threw a nervous glance over his shoulder, which turned Bofur’s wide grin into an apologetic one.

Fíli cleared his throat, drawing their attention. He was frowning at the captive man, who had started struggling against his bonds and spewing nonsense into his gag as soon as he’d felt eyes on him.

“How do we do this?” Fíli asked, thankfully keeping his voice down. He looked at Bilbo and raised an eyebrow.

“We could hit him in the head,” Kíli suggested, his brow furrowed in thought. “Could be easier to carry...”

Bilbo sighed.

“Maybe,” he said. “But it would take time for him to wake. Time that we don’t have.” He wasn’t going to mention that another blow to the head might actually cause some real damage. The dwarves seemed immune to this line of reasoning. “No, we’ll have to carry him like... well, like this.”

He gestured at the man, who only redoubled his struggles. The Princes both pursed their lips, but gave Bilbo determined nods and started untying the man from the tree trunk he’d been tied to.

“You sure you wanna do this, Bilbo?” Bofur asked, frowning at the lads’ efforts to avoid the man’s thrashing legs. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

Bilbo’s hand clenched around the torch. He sent another quick glance at the sleeping dwarves and turned to Bofur with a stubborn expression.

“No,” he admitted with a huff. “But we can’t do much worse than Nori and Dwalin.”

For a Captain of the Guard and a Spymaster, they were terrible at extracting any useful information. It probably had little to do with their skills, though Bilbo had yet to witness any real display of those. No, they were simply too busy arguing with each other like a pair of overgrown fauntlings.

After a day of constant yelling, Bilbo had stopped wondering why the Princes had not been thrilled to travel beside Dwalin and Nori. After four days, he had developed a Nori-and-Dwalin-specific headache. After a miserable, terrible, _awful_ week, he had finally given in and joined the betting pool on which of the two would snap and kill the other first.

It was a wonder that Erebor still stood.

“Believe it or not, they’re not always like this,” Balin had told him, carefully counting Bilbo’s money. He’d let out a satisfied hum, scribbled something on a piece of parchment and turned it towards Bilbo. “Sign here, please.” Bilbo had taken the offered quill with a raised eyebrow, but had written his name next to Balin’s mark. He’d examined the rest of the parchment, not at all surprised to see names of almost every dwarf already there, _including Nori’s_. “They must not think that there’s any actual information to be gained.”

Bilbo supposed it was their right. Except they had not let anyone else have a go at interrogating the man, making it impossible to learn anything at all.

Hence their current predicament.

“At least take this,” Bofur said, offering him a bundle wrapped in cloth. Bilbo eyed it suspiciously before unwrapping it. It was the little sword that had belonged to their prisoner, now hidden in a lovely leather scabbard. Bilbo blinked at it and then looked questioningly at Bofur. The dwarf cleared his throat. “Thought you might want to have something to defend yourself, just in case.” He scratched his head under the hat. “Easier to carry this way.”

Bilbo swallowed around a lump in his throat and passed his torch to Bofur so that he could fully appreciate the gift. He turned the scabbard this way and that, admiring the simple design and subtle engravings. He grabbed the handle of the sword and unsheathed it with ease.

“Thank you, Bofur,” he said and cleared his throat. “It’s lovely. Though I’m still not sure I’d know how to use it.”

Bofur grinned at him.

“Well,” he said, “if the man gives you trouble, show him the pointy end.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes, but dutifully attached the sword to his belt. The unfamiliar weight made him shift awkwardly on his feet.

“Bilbo...” Fíli said, a little out of breath. When Bilbo turned to look at the boys, they were struggling to hold onto the captive man.

“Right.” He nodded and adjusted the sword a bit. “Right.” He turned to Bofur again. “You sure you don’t want to come? The lads could use some help.”

“Nah, they can manage without me,” Bofur said cheerfully, ignoring Kíli’s pained yelp. “And someone should stay behind in case those numskulls wake up and decide to make a fuss.” He gestured towards the sleeping pile of dwarves.

Bilbo winced before nodding at Bofur and taking back the torch.

“We’ll be quick,” he said.

Bofur raised an eyebrow at him with an indulgent smile and watched as the boys wrestled the man away from the camp and into the woods. Bilbo sent him one last grateful look and hurried to catch up.

They chose the place for their little interrogation with care and careful planning: the boys dropped the man right where they stood as soon as they’d had enough of his squirming and immediately started tying him to a nearby tree. Bilbo sent a worried glance back to the camp. He could still see a faint glow of the fire flickering between the trees. Judging by the Princes’ pinched expressions, however, they would not take Bilbo’s advice to go a little farther too kindly.

Fíli glared at the man and pulled the gag out of his mouth. Bilbo braced himself for more yelling, but the man simply coughed and licked his lips before smirking at them.

“I ain’t telling you shit!” he said and spit on the ground.

Kíli opened his mouth to say something, but Bilbo didn’t let him, just in case.

“What’s your name?” Bilbo asked.

The man blinked at him and burst out laughing. Fíli and Kíli turned to look at Bilbo with confused frowns.

“Maybe this isn’t...” Fíli started cautiously.

“Really?” the man interrupted him with a sneer. Fíli clenched his jaw and glared. “You brought me out here ‘cause you wanna know my _name_?”

“I don’t care all that much, actually,” Bilbo told him, passing the torch to Kíli and crossing his arms. “You did try to steal my cart. Possibly wanted to kill me.” The man hummed noncommittally. “Still, it’s a bit rude to call people only by their race.”

The man looked at Bilbo for a long time with narrowed eyes. Bilbo tried not to squirm under the scrutiny.

“You’re a funny little bug,” the man said. “Fine. Call me...” he drawled, looking up as if searching for inspiration. “Girion.” He smirked. “Call me Girion.”

“Girion?” Kíli snorted. Bilbo rolled his eyes and pinched him in the side. Kíli jumped away with a yelp, almost dropping the torch.

“Girion then,” Bilbo said with a nod. He ignored the animated conversation taking place in hushed Khuzdul behind his back. “Tell me, Girion—”

“I ain’t telling you shit!” 

Bilbo pinched the bridge of his nose.

“That’s fine, but maybe—”

“Not until you let me go!”

“Um...” Bilbo bit his lower lip and sent the boys a fleeting glance. They didn’t seem thrilled with that idea either. “Well, er, let’s see...”

“Tell us what you know and we will consider it,” Fíli said.

Girion’s eyes instantly narrowed.

“You lying rats!” he yelled, making Bilbo wince. “Untie me now!”

“And there he goes again,” Kíli muttered.

“I will cut your lying tongues and make you eat them!”

“Lovely.” Bilbo sighed and threw another worried glance towards the camp.

“I will turn you into trees and cut you down with your own axes!”

“Oh, Mahal’s stones, _shut up_!” Fíli hissed and shoved the gag right back into the man’s mouth.

They stood there looking at the man with various levels of dismay until Bilbo heaved a deep sigh.

“Right,” he said and nodded at the Princes, and they followed him a couple paces away.

“He’s in the shouty mood again,” Kíli grumbled. He was glaring at Girion, who had learned nothing from experience and continued trying to squirm out of Dwarven ropes. “That last bit didn’t even make _sense_.”

Fíli looked at Bilbo with a worried frown.

“I’m sorry, Bilbo,” he said. “I don’t think he’s going to talk.”

Bilbo pursed his lips and looked at Girion who had by then given up on the ropes, but not on spouting threats into his gag.

“Perhaps not,” he mused. “But he might just yell something useful.”

He turned on his heel and stomped right back towards the man, pulling his gag out before the boys even had the chance to reach him.

“So you decided to come back, you little worm!” Girion immediately shouted.

“Yes, well, I thought perhaps we could—”

“I will quarter you with that dagger you stole from me!”

Bilbo’s hand twitched towards the sword. He clenched and unclenched his fingers and then crossed his arms.

“I’m pretty sure you stole that dagger yourself,” he said. “From an Elvish _child_ , it would seem.”

“I ain’t no child robber!” Girion yelled. “Found it, like the honest man I am! _You_ stole it from me! I will put you in a sack and feed you to the trolls!”

“Right, yes, that’s...” Bilbo winced. “That’s lovely. But maybe we could avoid—”

“I will squeeze you in a barrel and throw it in the river!”

Bilbo took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. He turned to the Princes while Girion continued to yell his threats.

“You were right,” he said, loudly enough for the man to hear. “He doesn’t know anything.”

“I know lots of things!” Girion shouted at him. “I know how to drop an annoying fly like you from a rock and stop it from flying ever again.”

“Yes, that’s... um...” Bilbo frowned and shook his head, trying to get rid of that mental image. “You didn’t know there were dwarves in my cart though,” he risked a guess.

Girion narrowed his eyes at him.

“Of course I didn’t know!” he almost growled. “Do I look stupid?”

“Do you really want us to answer that question?” Kíli asked, amused. Judging by the pained yelp that could be heard a moment later, Fíli elbowed him in the side for it.

“Oh, you think you’re so clever, do you?” Girion growled and Bilbo sighed before sending Kíli a glare. “With your... your axes and... and your books...” He spit on the ground, inches from Bilbo’s feet. Bilbo winced and took a step back. “You ain’t better than me! If you wanna survive on the road, you gotta use your head!”

Bilbo nodded in understanding.

“I suppose that’s true,” he said. “Especially if you work alone.”

The man smirked.

“Who says I work alone?”

Bilbo’s nose twitched and he sniffed.

“So you don’t?” he asked.

Girion opened his mouth to respond, but quickly closed it and glared at Bilbo.

“I ain’t telling you shit!” he hissed.

“You are a bit though,” Kíli said. Bilbo barely stopped himself from stomping on his foot.

“You tricked me!” Girion bellowed, making Bilbo flinch and glance towards the camp again. “You miserable rats! I will throw you to the wargs!”

The man stopped shouting, but renewed his efforts to free himself. He struggled for a moment, before sagging in his bonds and glaring up at Bilbo and the Princes. Bilbo let out an exaggerated sigh and turned to the boys.

“You’re not supposed to tell him that,” Bilbo hissed, well in range of Girion’s hearing. “Now he’ll never tell us if he killed his friends or not!”

“Killed them?” Girion spluttered and glared even harder. “ _Killed them_?! You worm! I had to watch them _die_!”

Bilbo felt his eyebrows rise and chanced a careful glance at the boys. Fíli looked back at him with a baffled expression, while Kíli just frowned at the man.

“Probably tried to rob the wrong people,” he said.

“You filthy rodents are not people!” Girion yelled. “I will wipe out every single one of you and no weapons or magic will help you!”

“Magic?” Bilbo leaned forward, his fingers twitching in barely contained excitement. “So you met other dwarves before, and they had magic?”

Girion blinked up at him and his lips twisted into a nasty grin.

“I ain’t telling you _shit_ ,” he said.

Bilbo clenched his jaw and balled his hands into fists. He glared at Girion, but the man just looked back at him, that infuriating grin still in place.

“I wonder what kind of magic,” Kíli said cheerfully, making Bilbo sigh.

“This is really not the time,” he grumbled and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I’m just curious!” Kíli stepped closer to Girion, inspecting him in the torchlight. The man leaned away as far as his bounds allowed. “What if they’d turned him into a toad?”

Bilbo blinked and exchanged a confused look with Girion. He quickly realized what he was doing and went back to glaring.

“Obviously not!” Girion yelled at Kíli, still trying to get away from the torch’s flame. “You imbecile!”

“Oh? How do you know?” Fíli asked and joined his brother. They were both practically bouncing on their feet like excited little fauntlings.

Bilbo just frowned at them in confusion. He might have expected a certain level of silliness from Kíli, and Eru knew that Fíli could be just as silly, but the elder Prince usually had more sense than... well... that.

Girion looked at Fíli and Kíli in astonishment.

“Because I’m not a toad!” he yelled. His arms twitched against his bonds as if he’d like nothing better than to throw them in the air in frustration.

“Well, not yet, no.” Kíli poked Girion in the ribs. When nothing happened, he frowned and did it again. “But what if it was a delayed spell?”

“What?” Girion asked and fidgeted. Bilbo looked from Fíli to Kíli, finally starting to catch up.

“Or a conditioned one,” Fíli said, circling the man.

“Yeah!” Kíli nodded with enthusiasm. “Like this one time Mum put a spell on Uncle when he annoyed her and it made him bleat like a goat every time he sneezed!”

Fíli snorted, quickly covering it with a convenient coughing fit. He sent Bilbo an amused glance, eyes twinkling with mischief.

Bilbo smiled at him fondly.

“Yes, like that,” Fíli said.

“Maybe you’ll croak like a toad every time you hiccup?” Kíli poked Girion again. Bilbo had to purse his lips to stop himself from smiling.

“Can we check?”

The boys sent Girion two identical calculating looks. The man seemed just about ready to squirm out of his own skin.

“What—” he nearly croaked, which made the boys look at him even more closely. He gasped and cleared his throat, his eyes wide and frightened. “What is this nonsense?”

The boys just kept on looking at him with expectant faces. When nothing happened, Kíli frowned.

“Maybe he was cursed to vomit around horses?” he said. “Like poor Ori.”

“I don’t think so, Kee,” Fíli told him, shaking his head seriously. “You’ve seen how Ori is, and that’s with the curse already lifted. Girion hasn’t even _flinched_ around our ponies!”

“Oh.” Kíli’s face fell, only to light up like one of Gandalf’s fireworks not a moment later. “How about—”

“Stop!” Girion yelled, his wide eyes darting from one Prince to the other. “No one turned me into a toad! Or... or made me feel sick around horses!”

He closed his eyes and breathed shallowly for a moment.

“What if he explodes when he’s angry?” Kíli said. Fíli frowned and took a careful step back.

“You mean like Gimli did?”

“Yes, that was unfortunate!” Kíli’s mouth twisted into an unhappy grimace, making him look like a sad puppy. “If only he could control his temper a little better!”

Bilbo snorted and immediately covered his mouth with a hand. He had a strong feeling that the boys were a major reason for Gimli developing his temper in the first place.

“Took the whole mineshaft with him too, poor sod.” Fíli shook his head and sighed.

“Bad for business, that.”

“Just...!” the man hissed. “Shut up!” He breathed heavily for a while and then glared at the boys. “You can just... shut up with your curses and... and your... your toads and... explosions a-and whatever else you have in your damn books!”

The boys exchanged quick glances with Bilbo.

“So they had a spell book then, these other dwarves?” Fíli asked, trying not to look too eager.

Girion pursed his lips and leaned back against the tree.

“I ain’t. Telling you. Shit!” he said before going back to shouting.

Bilbo sighed and massaged his temples. He looked at the boys in frustration before they all turned towards the camp in alarm. There was a commotion loud enough to be heard over Girion’s yelling.

“Well...” Bilbo muttered. “Somebody’s awake.”

“It does sound like Nori,” Kíli said. He winced when a mighty roar echoed through the forest. “And that would be Dwalin.”

“We should head back now.” Fíli was already putting the gag in Girion’s mouth. “Before they toss Bofur’s hat into the fire.”

Bilbo pinched the bridge of his nose. Bofur’s hat was probably the last thing they should worry about. He sighed and helped the boys untie Girion from the tree. The man immediately started struggling again and Bilbo took the torch from Kíli before anyone could get burned or start a forest fire.

“Lead the way, Bilbo,” Fíli said through gritted teeth, trying to hold onto Girion’s squirming torso.

The trek back to camp was an exercise in patience and determination. Girion refused to cooperate and the lads nearly dropped him a few times while dodging stray limbs and shifting their grip on the man’s wriggling body. Despite what awaited them, it was a relief when the line of trees started thinning. Soon Bilbo could even recognize words in what was essentially a shouting competition.

“... be back any minute now!” Bofur said. “I’m sure they heard your silly tantrum and are already on their way!”

“You call it a tantrum?” Nori’s voice was full of poison.

“And what else would you call it?” Through a small open space between the trees, Bilbo could see Bofur tugging at his hat in frustration. “You’re being completely unreasonable! I was on watch! I saw all of—”

“Careful,” Dwalin interrupted, a heavy scowl on his face. “You’re one word away from admitting to treason.”

Well then. Bilbo had heard enough.

“So you two _can_ actually work together,” he said before stepping out of the forest. Every dwarf in the camp turned to look at him.

“What have you done to the Princes?” Nori growled, stomping towards him and reaching for his knives. Bilbo took a step back, hand searching blindly for his sword.

“Um...” He swallowed. “They’re right behind me.”

Bilbo pointed back over his shoulder, not letting Nori’s knives out of his sight. He’d expected the boys to say something — anything really — but he was met with silence. He frowned and turned around, and then blinked at the empty space where the Princes should have been and tried hard not to panic.

He swallowed again and slowly turned back. Most of the dwarves were glaring at him, some of them reaching for their weapons. Bilbo let out a nervous laugh and started walking backwards into the woods.

And collided with a warm solid mass. He squeaked and dropped the torch. It landed on a bare patch of land and the flame went off with a hiss. Bilbo blinked at it and turned around — heart beating wildly, hand reaching shakily for the sword — only to be greeted with the sight of Kíli’s sheepish face.

“Sorry, Bilbo,” he said. Bilbo took a deep, steadying breath. “Girion was being difficult and we dropped him.”

“Girion?” one of the dwarves asked, surprised.

Bilbo ignored him. He crossed his still shaking arms and frowned.

“You... dropped him.”

“Not on purpose!” Kíli said, throwing his arms in the air which, incidentally, made him drop the man’s legs. He made no move to pick them up again.

“Sort of on purpose, actually,” Fíli admitted and put the man’s torso down much more gently. “We lost the gag and he started biting.”

“See? Told you!” Bofur grinned and clapped Nori on the back. “There’s no flood in the forge.” He frowned. “That sounds better in Khuzdul.”

Nori shook off his hand and stomped to the other side of the camp in a strop. Dwalin looked like he wanted to follow him, but in the end he just grabbed Girion by the collar of the man’s tunic and dragged him to the nearest tree.

“That was very ill-advised,” Balin said, standing by Bilbo’s side. They both watched as the Princes tried to help Dwalin with the rope, while Dwalin kept glaring at them and waving them away as if they were a couple of annoying flies.

“I know.” Bilbo turned to Balin with a tight smile. “But something had to be done. Nori wasn’t getting anywhere and Dwalin really wasn’t helping.”

“True,” Balin conceded with a nod. “Try not to do it again though or Nori might actually murder you in your sleep.”

Bilbo swallowed and nodded curtly.

“It was worth it though,” Kíli said, materialising next to Bilbo with a large grin on his face.

“You’ve learned something then?” Ori asked. The chatter around them died down and everyone turned to look at them with expectant faces.

Bilbo smiled, but before he could say anything, he got squished between two overexcited Princes, each latching onto one of Bilbo’s arms.

“Boys...” he sighed and tried to extricate himself from their clutches. They had their Dwarven strength on their side, so Bilbo just sighed and conceded defeat.

“You bet we did!” Kíli said. “We’re awesome at interrogation!”

“Better than Nori, it seems.” Fíli puffed out his chest.

“Obviously we could have done better.”

“If you gave us more time.”

“But you spoiled it with your...” Kíli gestured around with one arm, the other one still on Bilbo. “Whining.”

“Boys!” Bilbo said again, a little bit more forcefully, but they just talked over him.

“Honestly, from now on we should be in charge of all interrogations in Erebor,” Kíli said.

“Much more interesting than boring meetings.”

“Oh! Maybe that could be our official— Ow!” Kíli turned around with a glare, massaging the back of his head. Fíli also yelped and turned around, which allowed Bilbo to free his arms and follow their example. He saw Nori standing there with his arms crossed and a glare on his face.

“Talk,” Nori all but growled.

“That’s what we’ve been trying to— Ow!” Kíli turned again, this time to glare at Dwalin. “We’re Erebor’s Princes, you know! We could have you executed!”

Dwalin just raised his eyebrow.

“Talk,” he said.

Kíli crossed his arms and started pouting, while Fíli kept on glaring at Nori. Bilbo rolled his eyes at them.

“Girion said he saw a different group of dwarves using a magic book,” he said, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Girion?” Glóin repeated, amused.

“A magic book?” Balin asked, with a disbelieving frown.

“Well, a _spell_ book in any case,” Bilbo said.

“A book with spells in it!” Kíli said cheerfully. He was entirely too excited about it. “ _Actual_ spells.”

“Yes, Kee, I think they’ve probably gathered.” Fíli sent him an indulgent look.

“I know, but it’s amazing!” Kíli grinned in childish delight. “I didn’t even know they existed! Can we get one?”

“That won’t be possible,” Óin grumbled, his voice rising above the beginnings of lively chatter. Everyone stopped talking and turned to look at him.

“Well, don’t spoil it!” Kíli pouted.

Balin sent him a quick reproachful look before turning back to Óin.

“What do you mean, it won’t be possible?” he asked. “Do you know anything about this book? We don’t have a description, do we?”

He looked at Bilbo who shook his head.

“I have a strong suspicion,” Óin said. “But I’m freezing my stones here, so if anyone wants to hear it, I’ll be where the fire is.”

He turned and walked towards the fireside, leaving the rest of the dwarves and one hobbit to stare at his back in bewilderment.

“Seems like I’m not getting any sleep tonight,” Bofur grumbled.

“That’s your own fault for listening to those two,” Dwalin told him with a pointed nod at the Princes.

“Hey!” Kíli protested. “It was Bilbo’s idea!”

“Yes, thank you, Kíli,” Bilbo muttered and massaged his temples. Then he looked at Bofur with an apologetic smile. “Sorry,” he said.

Bofur shrugged.

“I’ll be fine. Can always sleep in the cart.”

Bilbo looked at him, his eyebrows raised in doubt.

“Um... excuse me,” Ori chimed in. “I think Master Óin has already started.”

“But we’re still here!” Bombur said with a frown.

They all turned towards the fire and found Óin sitting on a log and talking to himself with help of ample gesticulation.

“And you have issues with _my_ storytelling,” Glóin grumbled.

They all laughed and hurried to the fireside.

 

* * *

 

They’d left Girion with a Ranger they’d encountered on the road. Some of the dwarves had wanted to kill him, but it felt wrong to Bilbo. He was a nasty man, sure, and Middle-earth would be a better place without him roaming it, but the idea of slicing his throat while he was bound and defenceless made Bilbo sick to his stomach.

“You’re wasting your sympathy on him,” Nori had told him sharply. “He will hang.”

“Maybe,” Bilbo had conceded with a reluctant nod. “But he’ll be judged fairly by his own people.”

Nori had shrugged, though his narrowed eyes had stayed fixed on Bilbo.

“If he blabs about us to anyone, I’m holding you accountable.”

Some of the other dwarves had voiced their protests as well, but they had been half-hearted at best. They had bigger concerns now.

Óin’s tale had not been encouraging. He had told them about spell books of old, dating back to the Second Age and Sauron’s reign of terror over Middle-earth. They were said to contain secrets of dark magic, aiding practitioners from all races.

“It turned even Men into dark wizards and they have no innate magic like Dwarves or Elves do,” Óin had said.

“So what happened to those books?” Ori had asked.

“They were burned.”

“Apparently not all of them,” Nori had grumbled.

They’d exchanged sombre looks and stayed silent for quite a bit after that.

“We couldn’t make sense of that garden appearing out of nowhere,” Balin had said at last. “Not even Gandalf recognized that magic.”

“Everything pointed towards Dwarves, but our magic is really not that strong or complicated.” Ori had pursed his lips. “It was impossible to get any information.”

“Don’t know about you, but I don’t really feel better now that we got it,” Bofur had muttered.

Bilbo had looked around the fireside. Some of the dwarves had been grumbling, some had just sat in determined silence with their jaws clenched, while others had glared at the fire.

“So,” he’d started. “What do we do about it?”

Only silence had answered him.

That silence still hung over them now as they travelled on. The road ahead of them seemed safe and inviting, but they were all too aware of the danger it might yet bring them.

Which meant that Fíli and Kíli were now observed even more keenly. A large part of Bilbo was glad for it, but the other part saw how on edge it made them feel and hoped they wouldn’t do anything stupid.

He should have known better by now.

“The Princes are missing,” Dwalin announced one morning. Everyone stopped their usual preparations for the journey and stared at him.

“What do you mean, missing?” Dori asked.

“They were _just_ here!” Bilbo said, trying hard not to sound as panicked as he felt.

“Aye!” Glóin muttered. “Had to wrestle their sleeping rolls from under them.”

“Are you sure they didn’t just hide behind a tree to have a little nap?” Bofur asked before sending Bilbo a reassuring smile. “It’s happened before.”

“Oh, I’m not saying they were kidnapped,” Dwalin grumbled. “They ran off.”

Bilbo took a shaky breath. He was going to get a mighty headache because of it, he could tell.

“Are you sure?” Balin asked. He seemed calm and composed, but the strain around his eyes and mouth betrayed his worry. “Whose turn was it to watch them?”

Dwalin sighed and presented them with a very flustered Ori. The poor lad’s face was nearly as red as his hair.

He was also tied from head to toe with heavy rope. And gagged.

“Ori!” Dori exclaimed and hurried to his brother’s side. “Why did you leave him like this, for Mahal’s sake?” He sent Dwalin a dark glare and started working on the knots.

“This doesn’t prove that the Princes were not kidnapped,” Óin said with a frown. “I would assume that they were, actually.”

“They left a note, the little pests,” Dwalin grumbled and unfolded a piece of parchment. “’Went for a walk’,” he read. “’Don’t blame Ori. He fought bravely.’”

“Well, of course no one is blaming Ori!” Dori said irritably, still fussing with the knots. “I will tie up those two little miscreants myself if they ever try this again. See how _they_ like that!”

“Careful, Brother.” Nori approached him with a lopsided grin and simply cut through Ori’s bindings with one of his knives. “You’re talking about Royalty here.”

Dori glared at him, which provided Ori with just enough distraction to pull his gag out.

“I’m terribly sorry!” he said, his eyes large. “I tried to stop them, but they surprised me!”

He batted Dori’s hands away and shook off the remains of the rope before standing.

“No one is blaming you, lad,” Dwalin said, putting a comforting hand on Ori’s shoulder. “It’s not your fault that the Princes are a threat to themselves.”

“Do you know where they went?” Bilbo asked impatiently, quite fed up with the dwarves wasting precious time on talking around the issue. It earned him a glare from Dori, but Ori just squared his shoulders and nodded.

“They wanted to explore that cave we saw a while back,” he said. “I said no and... well...” He shrugged. “Should have seen it coming.”

“We’ll bring them back,” Dwalin said and squeezed Ori’s shoulder before turning to face the rest of the dwarves. “Bifur, Dori, I want you with me. We’ll take the ponies to go faster.” Bifur and Dori nodded and set out towards their bags to arm themselves. “Nori, you’ll take one as well and check that cave from the other side.”

“Aye, aye, Captain!” Nori sent him a mocking salute and also went away.

The rest of the dwarves slowly drifted away to finish what they had been doing before Dwalin’s announcement, but Bilbo stayed and crossed his arms.

“What about me?” he asked.

“Stay here and don’t get into trouble,” Dwalin told him and made a move to step towards his own bag, but Bilbo stood in his way.

“No,” he said firmly.

Dwalin narrowed his eyes at him.

“Halfling…” he growled.

“I _need_ to go!” Bilbo would go mad with worry if forced to stay behind. “I will follow you anyway if you don’t take me and then you will have to go and find _me_ as well!”

“Or we could just leave without you,” Dwalin said, raising an eyebrow in a challenge.

Bilbo pursed his lips.

“Tell that to Fíli and Kíli,” he said with more confidence than he really felt.

Dwalin glared at him, but it wasn’t enough to change Bilbo’s mind. He squared his shoulders and matched Dwalin glare for glare until the dwarf finally relented.

“You ride with Nori,” Dwalin said.

Bilbo clenched his jaw, but nodded and went in search of Nori, making a quick stop to find his little sword. He still didn’t know how to use it properly, but he could always throw the blasted thing at someone if it came to that.

He found Nori adjusting the saddle on one of the ponies.

“I don’t have time for you now,” Nori muttered.

“I’m going with you,” Bilbo said and gracelessly hopped onto the saddle as soon as it was properly fastened.

Nori blinked at him. He noticed Bilbo’s sword and frowned.

“No, you’re not,” he said. “Get down!”

“No.” Bilbo held stubbornly onto the saddle. “Dwalin said I’m to go with you.”

Nori’s frown deepened and he turned around to glare at Dwalin. They exchanged some angry looking hand gestures that made Nori clench his jaw.

“ _Fine_ ,” he said through gritted teeth and jumped on the saddle behind Bilbo with much more grace and much less effort than Bilbo could ever hope for. “One wrong move though and you’re having an unfortunate accident under the hooves.”

Bilbo only pursed his lips and tightened his grip on the saddle.

 

* * *

 

They approached the cave in tense silence and split up. Dwalin, Dori, and Bifur headed directly towards the entrance, while Nori and Bilbo cautiously circled around the cave, looking for hidden threats. They found none, but soon raised voices made them hurry to reach the others.

What they found was not a scene from a nightmare, as Bilbo half-expected, but two pouting Princes suffering through a stern lecture, but otherwise unharmed. Bilbo let out a relieved sigh.

“We just wanted to explore!” Kíli whined and crossed his arms like a petulant child. Fíli just stood beside him with a stony expression. “You never let us do that!”

“And for a good reason!” Dwalin roared.

Bilbo jumped down from the pony. He swayed a little, trying to keep his balance despite wobbly legs, before running towards the boys, ignoring Nori’s muttering.

He interrupted another rant by enveloping a surprised Fíli into a tight hug.

“Bilbo?” Fíli asked, a little uncertain. He held himself very still for a moment before patting Bilbo on the back. Bilbo sniffed and pinched his side.

“Don’t _ever_ do that again!” he exclaimed before hugging Kíli just as tightly.

Kíli gingerly returned his embrace.

“Um...” he mumbled into Bilbo’s curls. “We’re sorry?”

Bilbo huffed and disentangled himself from Kíli.

“As well you should be!” he said. “You could have been captured! Or _killed_!” He swallowed, trying to banish that thought. “O-or turned into frogs!”

“That would have been an improvement,” Nori muttered.

Bilbo sent him a glare before turning back to face the boys.

“We’re really sorry,” Fíli mumbled. “We didn’t want to upset anyone.”

“Then maybe you should think before doing certain things,” Nori said, looking at them with narrowed eyes. “Like attacking my baby brother.”

Kíli giggled nervously while Fíli just pursed his lips.

“We didn’t... _attack_ attack him, just... tied him up? A bit?” Kíli offered.

Nori raised an eyebrow at him and pointed at Dori.

“Try it again and you’ll have bigger things to worry about than me,” he said.

The boys looked at Dori and swallowed, which made Bilbo’s lips twitch.

“We should head back to camp,” Dwalin said gruffly. “Before they send search parties after us.”

He nodded at Dori and Bifur who hoisted the Princes up onto their ponies. The boys didn’t seem happy about that — Kíli started pouting again even before he was fully seated, and Fíli visibly paled in front of Dori. Bilbo was about to say something, but he just squeaked when Nori grabbed him by the waistcoat and pulled him up, back into the saddle.

“Don’t fall down,” Nori warned him and urged the pony on.

The ride back to camp was rather quiet. They were all still tense and no one seemed to be in the mood to talk, which turned out to be a very good thing indeed.

They were nearing the camp when Nori pulled on the reins and stopped the pony, a frown on his face.

“What is it?” Bilbo asked, alarmed. He looked around, but couldn’t see anything suspicious.

“I’m not sure,” Nori muttered, then hooted like an owl.

The rest of the dwarves immediately turned their ponies around and joined them.

“Did you see anything?” Dwalin demanded quietly.

Nori shook his head and started signing. Bilbo had no way of understanding the signs, but judging by the dwarves’ unhappy faces, it wasn’t good news. He looked around, expecting danger to lurk behind every tree. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Fíli lay a hand on his shoulder.

“Try not to get us killed,” Nori muttered and dismounted his pony.

The others followed his example and together they crept towards the camp. They could hear muffled voices, rising in volume the closer they got. Bilbo’s heart was beating madly in his throat — it didn’t sound like a friendly chat.

Finally, they got close enough to distinguish words.

“Where are the Princes?” an unfamiliar angry voice asked and Bilbo barely stopped himself from gasping.

They had been found.


End file.
